And Yet They Shine
by Chicklette
Summary: Isabella Swan is an ordinary girl, caught up in an extraordinary world. What if the Cullens weren't vampires? What if they were gods instead?
1. 1: Willing

**And Yet They Shine: A Twilight 25 Fic**

**Chapter One: Willing**

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The air was thick and heavy with fog that seemed to have come from nowhere. The night sky that once was clear had clouded, and the moon was a hazy ball of white light, hidden from the girl's clear gaze. She stood in her white cotton dress and shivered, as the ocean's waves crashed, like a heartbeat against the shore.

Edward held his breath. He watched her pale hand flutter into his open palm. It looked so small there, like a magnolia, he thought, tender and perfumed. Delicate.

He closed his fingers around her hand and felt the swell in his chest, for the first time in his endless life, that swell that they all talked about, that they all took for granted. He cursed and then praised Eros for his silly little arrows, his ability to inflict this sensation at whim, and in a moment that thought froze him. Eros and his arrows. Had she been struck by one?

He regarded the pale beauty before him. Her wide brown eyes and dark brown hair and the moonlit skin that smelled of flowers – all of these things entranced him and held him in thrall. Yet if all of this was just a ruse, some magic spell from a wayward child….

He couldn't bear the thought. Eternal darkness was his home, and there among the shades he was king. He held riches that no man could fathom, but in the dark, always the dark. He couldn't be responsible for bringing another to that life, not unless she was truly willing. Not unless she wanted to be there by his side. She had to want it, in her heart.

With a sigh he opened his long fingers and released her.

She stared at him, eyes wide again. She'd felt compelled to touch him, to answer his single request to join him. She didn't understand why, but she knew that he was not like other, the warm man with the warm smile who had snatched up her heart with a single kiss. This man was different, beautiful in a different way, though equally preternatural. The compulsion to touch him was something feral inside of her, not in her blood, but in her very flesh. She couldn't deny the urge.

Placing her hand in his, she'd felt an unfamiliar lightness, a sense of truth, of something so fundamentally right that it could not be denied. Yet now he denied her that very sensation.

He whispered something under his breath, but the words were fast and she did not understand.

She blinked hard, the tears and her bewilderment both rising at once. She'd known for the last year that she would never see the other again. She'd known from the salted tang of their last kiss that her skin wouldn't burn from his touch, melting her down, until she turned to ash. Yet each day that she'd cried for him, she'd hoped. And with each step toward that same churning ocean, she'd wondered if perhaps her heart had been wrong.

"I don't understand," she whispered to him. "You come here, and you touch me and it feels-" Her hand fluttered over her heart, brightly keening inside her chest. "And then you just let me go. You're mean. Both of you."

She turned away from him, then fell to her knees, there in the sand. She did not want this, this feeling, this screaming inside of her that demanded things she could not procure. She bowed her head and two tears fell, creating wide splashes in the sand beneath her.

"Isabella," he said, sitting on his knees beside her. He reached out to her, his fingers hovering over the knit of her sweater before they fell to her shoulder and she stiffened under his touch. It took one gasped breath, a sob in her throat, and he gathered her to him, her heartbeat fragile and furious under his fingers, where he clutched her to his chest. His fingers wanted to move, to find the mark of Eros on her breast but his mind did not really want to know. Willing or not, he wanted _her_.

She stilled under his embrace and then he felt her breathing ease. He felt the swelling ache in his chest once more, and he looked toward the sky and cursed. Artemis did not still her flight and the moon skimmed through the sky. The night would be swift. Edward did not have the luxury of time.

"I don't want to feel like this," she said.

"I know," he answered, because he did. He whispered Rosalie's name again, a charm or a curse, he wasn't sure. "You promised her whole," he said, again so low and fast that the girl's human ears could not discern his words. His tongue burned with disappointment – bitter copper pennies streaked with dirt.

Bella turned to look at him. The damp air clung to her hair and soft waves appeared. He thought the scent of it drying would overpower him and render him helpless. Who was he fooling? He was already helpless.

"I can give you tonics to make you forget him," he said, because already, rules had been broken. "I can give you a potion to make you forget me. I can close your eyes and when you open them, you won't know that the last year has passed. You won't know that this beach exists, and you can have your life back, the way it was before."

He held her wrist in his hand, his long fingers circling it, and he ached for the warmth of her skin, how she would be warm, all over. He waited for her to say something, but she only stared; first at him, then at their hands joined together in her lap, then at him again.

"Your eyes are so dark," she said. Like volcanic glass, she thought, imagining an inferno burning dark and hot where he was.

"Where I am? I'm right here."

Her eyes widened. "You don't – how did you-"

She let go of his wrist, like a petulant child and he snatched it back before she could miss it, before that feeling could dissipate again. His better nature was damned by his unrelenting want. She was his promised. Already he'd waited so long.

"Isabella," he said, tilting her chin up to stare into her eyes. "I can make you a queen."

She swallowed and words from that wish made so long ago shimmered at the back of her mind. She could almost taste them, laced with honey and full of hope, a heart that had never been broken.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I want to know more."

"An apple from a tree?" he asked.

She stared at him, her gaze level and clear. "Aren't you mixing your mythology?"

Edward sighed and inside he groaned. This clever girl knew too much already, and caution was something he'd never understood.

The fog that shrouded them grew thicker still. He leaned in toward her and she felt his breath, warm, across her lips. His dark eyes flickered with something she couldn't name, a hunger, and she felt it at the pit of her stomach.

He closed the distance between them until there was only a sliver of fog left in that small space. His fingers still circled her wrist and when he spoke she could smell him, the sweet, earthy scent of him, like the forest after a rain.

"If you come with me, you may not be able to come back."

She nodded and turned her hand, lacing her fingers with his. He stared down at their clasped hands, whispered something in a hiss and turned, leading her away. Her steps no longer hesitant, her feet bare on the damp sand, she followed.

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AN: My thanks belong to FarDareisMai2 and Krismom, who are terribly talented writers themselves, yet who still spend their time reading my fluff and helping me make it better. I love you guys!

There is a prequel to this story titled "Stars Fall Down." I don't believe it's necessary to read that first, but I do think it's interesting to do so.


	2. 2 Dark

**And Yet They Shine**

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**Dark**

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He led her to the water's edge, and foamy whitecaps lapped at her toes. She curled them into the sand as a shiver ran up her spine. Edward jerked toward her, then stayed himself.

"I could…if the water's cold, I could carry you." His arms were out, open and his knees bent toward a crouch. It was awkward on his large frame and Bella cocked her head at him, surprised to see him so posed.

Her body tried to move forward, to let him take her in his arms, but her mind rebelled. His hand was still clasped around her wrist. For a time, that would be enough. She shook her head at him, and he nodded, his fingers moving to lace through hers. That felt right to her: the union.

He pulled her toward the water and she stepped, timid, into the cold. He pulled again and then swung behind her and lifted her by her arms into a small boat. No, not a boat, but the concave side of an enormous shell. A sea turtle shell. She looked at him in wonder.

"Since you can't breathe underwater, we'll have to take the usual passage." His voice was soft and apologetic, yet teasing. She moved to pull her hand away, even as she fought for balance in their tiny boat.

He chuckled, low in the back of his throat, and she looked up at him, eyes full of fire.

"You say you want me, and then you mock me. I won't be your toy."

Her chastisement played across his face. "Never. Isabella," his voice was soft and repentant as he lifted their joined fingers to his lips. "Never think that I see you as a frivolity, a play thing." He shook his head and the breeze riffled through his hair, tossing the locks, some gold, some brown, before one lock fell, lazy across his brow. Bella reached up to stroke it away and he bent his head forward, pressing against her warm hand.

At the sight of him, eyes closed and willing himself toward her touch, Bella felt her heart flutter with something new, something strong. Had he yielded power to her touch?

"Then tell me, Edward, how do you see me?"

He opened his eyes and gazed down upon her, a beautiful girl, quaking with fear, her veins coursing with power that she'd only just discovered. Could he whisper the secrets of his heart? Did he even have one? He had never longed for another as he longed for her, that much was true. Would that be enough for this human girl, so fragile, dressed in flesh and blood?

He sighed. "I see with the eyes of a man, who has seen the first woman."

Bella's face puckered as she pondered the meaning of his words. Was she a novelty to him, then? A curious thing to spur his imagination? She thought of other ways his words could be taken, as adoration, or perhaps redemption. She did not notice that their path took them into the sea cave, down through the water, into the dark.

He watched her and was glad for the distraction. As they headed ever further down, the earthen walls gave way here and there to bits of bone, flashes of gems. Soon he wouldn't be able to hide it from her, and soon she would demand the option to go. He would be hard pressed to allow her to leave. It would be harder still to tell her no.

"Bella," he said, and pulled her close. His eyes saw everything so very clear, the slightest bit of moonlight, a far off torch -- that was all the illumination he needed. But she was young and easily frightened. Human.

He felt her arms wrap around his waist. "It's so dark," she said, pressing her face against his chest.

And that was all it took to bring a god to his knees.

The dark crept in, climbing the walls, as their little boat carried them away. Edward brought his arms around the girl and bent his head to hers. The smell of her was sweet and somehow light and heavy at once, and he breathed deep until it was all he could smell, until the scent lost meaning and he was dizzy with it, with her.

"Shh," he whispered in her ear. "I've got you, you're fine." He had her. Nothing bad could touch her, while she was in his arms.

Isabella turned her head and peered out into the dark. Her arms tightened around this man, this _god_, who held her quick against him. As they travelled the air grew colder, and then it seemed the tunnel grew lighter. She watched as earthen walls began to appear out of the nothing, and they were carried toward a dim, but growing, light.

She loosened her grip and was surprised to find that she'd been fisting his suit jacket in her hands. She felt sheepish, small and vulnerable, and he, as if he sensed this, tightened his grip on her arms.

"It's okay," he told her. "No matter what you see, it's okay."

She shivered as something pale peeked out from the walls of the cave. Something else glinted, and she thought it looked like a jewel. As the light grew, she saw that it was a gem, that the walls were covered in them, winking and sparking red and white and green and blue, like something out of a fairy tale film, from when she was a child.

"It's so pretty," she whispered.

She loosened her grip further and then there was an inch of space between them. She missed the heat, the warmth of their union, but she was eager to see what would come next. They turned a corner and she blinked her eyes.

It looked like….

Was that…?

Oh! She buried her face in his lapels again. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered low, shushing words.

"Edward, there are - those are bones," she said. "They're – they look human."

"They are," he said, because he couldn't lie to her. She had eyes of her own and she would see soon enough. He stilled as he waited for her to shudder, and she did.

"That's terrible," she said.

He braced himself, because now it would come. Now before she got even so far as Styx, she would demand passage back home.

"You know where we're going, Isabella. What did you think you would find?" He was sorry at once for his cold tone and stiff posture, bracing for her inevitable turn away from him.

Instead, she pulled him closer. She nuzzled into his chest. "They can't hurt me?" she asked.

And in a moment of relief, so thick and sweet it was like honey on his skin, he stroked a hand across her hair, then bent and pressed his lips to her head. "No, love, they can't hurt you."

Isabella relaxed into his embrace. Come what may, with his arms around her, she was safe.

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**AN:** **Marvelous** much love to FarDareisMai2 and Krismom for their gift of beta. This would be a lot less pretty without them. Many thanks to Zee, Zigs, and my WC friends. This wouldn't be here without you.

**Apologies** for the ridiculous length between postings. My real life kind of knocked me on my butt the last few months. I finally see a light though, so updates for this and my other wip should be much more timely. Thanks greater than words can say to those of you still reading.

**Also,** thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to those of you who voted for my Indie fic. I won best love triangle, complete, and it meant the absolute *world* to me. 3


	3. 3 Prelude

**And Yet They Shine**

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**Prelude**

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The boat carried them on and Bella stayed tucked into his chest. She'd slipped an arm around his waist, and he'd brought his suit jacket over her, covering her with it, like a blanket. She was tender cargo; he would provide safe passage.

As the light grew, so did her bravery. She peeked out from his lapels until the peeks became stares, her dark eyes wide, pupils crowding out the irises, absorbing each bit of light in the dank, shadowed tunnel. Edward tucked his head to hers and breathed her in, over and over. He did not smell the musty scent of the underworld, and the water of the Styx was neither sweet nor bitter to him. Instead he smelled her, took her inside of him, the tiny molecules of her scent swimming in his veins, making his heart pound with wanting her, ever closer, ever more.

He was lost in it, sick with it, until what started as a whisper became a frantic cry, pulling him out of his reverie of fragrant dreams and back into the dark.

"Edward! Edward!"

He pulled away to find her eyes round and panicked. "You're hurting me," she said, looking down at his hand on her upper arm. He pulled away from her as though stung, holding his hand out and looking at the offending appendage as though he'd never seen it before. Bella reached up and rubbed her arm and Edward took a step away, his face drawn into a mask of revulsion.

"Did I – are you okay?"

She pouted her lips as she rubbed her arm and met his eyes with reproach.

"Fine," she said, then looked down.

He reached for her, and then drew back. "May I?" he asked.

She nodded, still staring at her feet. Edward pulled at the sleeve of her dress, careful not to touch her skin. There were five red dots where his fingers had been, glaring back at him from the white of her flesh. He bent toward her, and without a word, blew soft, warm breath against the marks.

"There," he said. "All better."

Bella looked down at her arm and saw that the marks were gone. The sting had eased. "What did you do?" she asked.

"Only what I could."

She stared up at him, eyes no longer fascinated with earthen walls filled with bone and shining gems. She studied him and he was beautiful in the half-light. He was pale skin and dark eyes, and he watched her gaze with indulgence stamped across his pretty face.

"Just because you fixed it doesn't mean that it's okay." Her eyes sparked in the low light and the corner of his mouth quirked up at this tiny girl, bossing a god as though she had power.

"Oh, pretty Isabella."

At the sight of his smile Bella felt her anger bubble into something more. Her cheeks flushed hot with fury, and she wanted to stamp her foot and tell him not to laugh at her. Instead, she did what _she_ could and turned away from him. Their small boat swayed and he placed a steadying hand on her arm.

"No," she said, her voice low, and jerked away from his grasp. Water sloshed over the side of the shell and Edward, quick with instinct, pulled her up, into his arms before a drop could touch her skin. She squirmed in his arms but he held her fast, and she yelled for him to let her go and he yelled for her to still.

A tiny island made of sand lay ahead and Edward nodded toward it, then whispered quick words into the dark air. In a moment their vessel had run aground and Edward leapt from the tortoise shell, delivering Bella to the ground.

The girl shook herself from his grip.

"Don't you ever!" she yelled. "Who do you – you can't just _do_ that, Edward. She paced the beach, her bare feet digging in to the soft, warm earth.

He stood before her and allowed her to rage at him. He found her fury adorable and he allowed it to play out until she looked at him, eyes blazing.

"Well?"

"You were about to splashed with water. I didn't think you'd want that."

"I don't mind getting a little wet, Edward."

He smiled at her, a crooked grin that made her feel foolish and yet drew her in.

"If your heart is pure, the River Styx will grant you invulnerability. But if your heart harbors doubts, or fears, the Styx will only magnify those thoughts, until they consume you, for eternity."

Bella's mouth gaped, then closed. She sat down on the ground and rested her head on her knees.

"Is your heart pure?" he asked.

Bella closed her eyes and he had the answer to his question. He hated himself for asking it, because he hated being right.

The petulant god stood and looked at his prize. Her white skirt and white skin were bright marks against the dark sand, dark walls, dark water. He'd been a fool to believe that the soft girl before him would stay with him of her own volition. Foolish to believe she would choose the dark over the light.

"Come on," he said, reaching out for her hand. "I'll take you back now."

The girl on the ground squeezed her eyes shut. She fisted her hands into the sand, the tiny grains of volcanic glass feeling smooth and loose under her fingers. She clenched, until the rough earth dug into her palms, and her hands grew hot with pressure.

"Don't," he said, pulling her hands away and uncoiling her tightly wound fingers. He stroked them with his own, then blew across them and Bella felt the flesh of her palms cool. He sat down next to her and she opened her eyes to look at him.

"You keep pushing and pulling, and I can't get my balance," she said. Edward nodded and looked down at their feet.

"You still love him," he said. "I don't want you to."

"I don't either," she answered. "But the heart wants what the heart wants."

"I want you to want me."

"You don't let me. You keep pushing. You show me," she swallowed. "You show me amazing things and then tell me to go away."

The god sat down, weary, next to the fresh, new human. She remained with her head bent onto her knees and her long dark hair spilled over her shoulders, off to one side. At the nape of her neck he saw the soft, fine hairs and he wanted to blow across her skin to see them rise. Under his gaze, they rose anyway and she shivered.

"Too cold?" he asked.

She nodded but then stopped. "Not cold," she answered.

He reached out and stroked a single finger, and then the back of his hand across her fair flesh.

He heard her heartbeat quicken as her face stayed smooth.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, gentle pressure on her scalp. Her lips opened with a soft pop and she breathed in, deep.

He leaned in closer and was immersed in her scent once again, the sweet of her skin and he fought it, fought the urge to sink again into it, and instead nudged his nose against the curve of her ear.

She let out a long, shaky breath and he saw the wetness seeping from her lashes.

"I want you to take me home," she said. Edward gasped, and she turned and caught his wrist before he could pull away. She stared into his eyes and he saw that hers were clear, and steady.

"But if you do I'll hate you for it. And me, too."

His eyes sought focus somewhere over her shoulder. "You know, you're going to hate me anyway."

"I don't have to," she said.

Edward had lived almost from the beginning of time. He had warred with the Titans and overthrown his own father. He had met the challenges of new gods, and had studied the behavior of man for what seemed to him to be an eternity. Yet all of his years, all of his experience, it added up to nothing in the next moment, when the small, human girl surprised him.

Bella released a sigh, deep from within her and then crawled across the scant space between them to climb onto his lap. She nuzzled her face into his neck. "Don't let me," she whispered, and he felt her tremble against him.

He was still for a moment, as she nestled into him, and then with a movement so slow it should have been laughable, he brought his arms around her and clutched her close to his chest.

Did they stay there for moments or months or years? Neither could say. But she never grew heavy, folded against him, and his mind never dulled to the perfume of her scent, the soft thrum of her heart, or the silk of her hair as it pressed against her cheek.

There they sat, and there they waited – for whatever was going to come next.

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Many** thanks and much love to FarDareisMai2 and Krismom. They are the Alpha and Beta of my heart.

**I thank you all,** readers, for reading, reviewing, and putting this on alert. Your generosity amazes me, touches me, always.

**Do** you write funny stories? Want to write for the Southern Vampire Mysteries/True Blood universe? Consider entering the Dead Pan Contest: http: // www. fanfiction

.net/~deadpancontest (The SVM girls are lovely, lovely.)

**I've** been reading – and loving – Decoy by 107 Year Old Virgin. What have you been loving?


	4. 4 Honest

**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter Four**

**Honest**

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Isabella sat with her toes digging in to the warm, dark sand. As her feet tunneled deeper, the sand became warmer and she found herself seeking it out until she was up to her ankles in the stuff. Edward kept his arms around her, and he was so still it might have been furniture holding her, instead of a man. The water swirled around them in a soft gurgle, and she brought her arms up around the neck of the mysterious stranger, the beautiful man, the _god,_ and rested her head against his shoulder.

"_I wished to __find the one who would love me and let me love him, who would be my king, and see me as his queen."_

Her words, said to another man, repeated in her head. Her golden suitor, her first love, so handsome and boyish, had looked so broken when she spoke. The words were born of her heart, and they'd lived there, roots tangling deep around the pulsing, throbbing thing, until at times she felt as though it was strangling, her heart, on the words of her wish.

She wanted that feeling to stop.

Edward held her and stroked a hand across her hair. It was a small thing, a comforting thing, and she wondered again if she could bend herself to love him. The space inside of her that the other had claimed grew smaller each day. For the last year she'd felt that she couldn't breathe and she needed oxygen to keep the burn alive. And yet…and yet her body still burned with the memory of his hands on her, light and languid by the bright of the moon, and always warm, always burning.

She felt Edward's arms tighten, his body growing stiff beneath her, and so she clutched him tighter, twisting until she found comfort again.

Edward was not warm like that. His touch did not scald her skin but it lit a fire within her, nonetheless. What she felt was not desire so much as compulsion. She needed to take his hand. She needed to follow him. She needed to know his secrets. She didn't care about the cost.

Again he stiffened and she pulled away to look at him. His eyes were impossibly dark in shadows and his skin gleamed, almost pearlescent. He looked angry, or frightened, and she reached to stroke her hand across his cheek, to soothe the furrow in his brow with her thumb.

He seemed to ease then, to soften under her touch and she looked at him, curiosity naked on her face.

"You like it when I touch you?" she asked, though it was not a question.

He hummed under his breath and the urge struck her, lightening quick, to take his mouth with her own, to kiss him there, fast, hard.

He pulled away from her with a gasp and searched her face. She studied his mouth, his lips now parted, and she imagined it was sweet inside, cherries or maybe wine. Before she could finish the thought his mouth was next to hers and she felt, she tasted, his breath against her tongue. She arched a little in his grasp, her body already pressed against his. Would it be like the other, she wondered. Would their mouths taste the same, feel the same? She took a deep breath and steeled herself. Would it make her sad, the touch of someone else?

She watched his mouth hover next to hers before she let her eyes close. She would try, she thought. If she didn't like it, she could always stop. He'd already offered to send her home so many times, it would be a simple thing to say yes.

But the kiss didn't come, and before she could exhale she found herself standing on the loose earth, struggling for balance. Edward held her by her arms, waiting for her to acclimate. She looked at him, again curious. He'd wanted it too, hadn't he? Wasn't that what this was about?

He looked down at her. "We should get going." He held his hand out for her as she climbed back on to the little boat. She watched the water with a wary eye.

"Don't worry," he said. "You're fine. I won't let you get wet."

He extended his arm and Isabella clung to it. It was not the comfort and safety of his embrace, and for the first time since they began their descent, fear crept at the edges of her skin. Thoughts of turning back swam to the surface of her mind again, but he banished them by pulling her close, tight to his chest. She turned into his embrace, her face pressing hard against the silk of his shirt.

Edward stroked a hand down her back and then eased her away so that he could peer into her eyes. His voice was still whiskey rough, but lacked the brown sugar sweet when he spoke: "We've been traveling for a long time, pet. I wonder if perhaps you aren't hungry?"

He gave her a canted half-smile, and she shivered in the dark.

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**A/N:** My heart's thanks to Krismom and FarDareisMai2. They beta and hand-hold, and offer all manner of lovely gifts of self. I honestly wouldn't be writing if not for the early and constant encouragement of these two fine people.

**Thank **you, again, to those of you still reading, and those of you who have recently started. I appreciate your readership, and your kind comments, so very much.

**I** started a new collection of o/s titled "Venice Beach Stories." The first story is posted and features a skateboarding Edward and a fairly confident Bella. AH and kind of smutty. If you give it a read, I hope you enjoy!


	5. 5 Patience

Our story so far: Edward is the god of the Underworld, and has been promised the love of Isabella, to be his queen. She previously fell in love with Jasper, the god of the Sun, and was heartbroken when he gave her up. Edward is taking Isabella to his world, while she battles with her new feelings for Edward and her old feelings for Jasper. This story will update in short, unbeta'd chapters, hopefully daily until its completion. Many thanks for those of you who are still hanging on, and hanging in.

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**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 5**

**Patience**

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Their vessel landed against the shore with nary a bump. Everything about Edward, everything about his world was so smooth. As he held a hand aloft to guide her from the boat, she laced her fingers tight with his. He resisted for a moment, then relented, his own long fingers squeezing against hers. She began to walk forward, toward the glow of light coming around the bend. It looked like a cave, the walls made out of the same dirt, the same shining gems, the same bits of bone that she'd seen for most of their journey.

She heard a low growl in the distance, something ferocious, or protective. She wasn't sure, but she was certain they were headed toward it.

"Don't be frightened," he whispered into her ear and she shivered again at his breath on her skin. Each time he did it, she wanted him more. He batted against her like a moth, coming close and retreating, but never coming to rest.

"I'm not afraid," she said, her voice steady and low. She made as if to march forward, her fingers becoming lax against his, but he yanked her back, holding their clasped hands in front of him, giving them a meaningful look before he spoke.

"Your heart beats so fast," he said, peering down into her eyes. "Even if I couldn't hear you, I could hear that."

Isabella looked at their joined hands and felt the rush of knowledge and embarrassment. She'd forgotten how he did that, plucked the thoughts from her mind like pennies from the ground. She thought of the almost-kiss, of how she'd wanted him, and of how she'd thought of someone else at the last moment. It struck her then, the cruelty of that moment, her honest longing for the comfort of this man, mixed with the knowing desire for another.

She dropped his hand and looked down at her feet, ashamed and flushed, but Edward would have none of it. He cupped his hand to her cheek and stroked it with his thumb. The smile he gave her seemed to hold no guile. It was small and resigned, and he looked at her with regret. It made her hands twitch to reach for him, to brush that look from his face with her fingertip and replace with something…extreme. He did not seem a man well suited for simple or easy or vague. She would have preferred his anger to this melancholy.

His hand left her face and he turned away. "I am seldom angry, Isabella, but believe me when I say that you would not, in fact, prefer me that way."

"Stop doing that," she said, her anger surprising them both. "You probe around inside my thoughts and then have the audacity to be upset at what you hear. It's not fair to either of us," she said. And then, in a small voice: "I'm trying."

And there, he thought, was the key to this beautiful, baffling girl. For so long he had witnessed the subterfuge of both gods and man. But this girl…she would not make a game of either his heart or her own. It made him long for her freedom while he yearned to bind her to his side forever.

Edward turned to her and felt contrition play across his face for the first time in more than a century. He reached for her, but then stilled his hand, and allowed it to drop to his side.

"I am sorry," he said, and then cast his eyes down. "I…forget that you aren't used to my abilities."

Isabella waited for him to meet her eyes, and when he did, she neither smiled nor frowned. She reached for his hand and her thoughts became a scream in his head, so loud that he winced and tried to withdraw. He saw her mind play out arguments and stalemates, each driven by his habit until finally they stood apart, alone, and lonely. Edward felt his own mind cower from the image, desolate and sad: his own version of hell.

"I would never allow things to go so far," he said, and stepped forward, cutting the distance between them in two.

"I would never let you," she said, and he felt a gentle push, and then the closing of a door. He looked at their clasped hands and felt for her thoughts, but couldn't find them. "Until you can learn some patience, Edward, I'm pulling your all-access pass."

He smiled at her then, and brought the back of her hand to his mouth. Her mouth quirked up at the feel of his lips on her skin. It sent a wave through her, and she felt compelled to be near him, safe within the circle of his embrace. As she contemplated moving, he looked at her through a fringe of lash, dark eyes shining with promise.

As Edward stood, he allowed himself a tiny smirk before wiping it clean of his face. Patience was something he'd never known, but he'd discovered that a single kiss could unlock a lot of doors. In her mind, he saw them kissing – him leaning over her, bending her back, with her thin, white arms around his neck. Her hair fell toward the floor in a cascade.

The vision was tempting. He wanted her, warm and sweet, against his mouth. But Edward was, in fact, a patient man when it was warranted. To kiss her in that moment would reveal too much, and he liked the idea of betting on a sure thing, for once.

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AN: This will post in short, unbeta'd chapters, and I hope to post daily. I really just want to get this finished, and I know that some of you have been waiting an awfully long time as well.


	6. 6 Earnest

**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 6: Earnest**

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"We are headed that way," he said, gesturing toward the tunnel. The…_something_ inside had stopped growling yet Isabella was still reluctant.

"Don't be frightened," he said. "Jake is a very large, three-headed dog. He guards the entrance to my kingdom, and obeys only me. He'll not hurt you."

Isabella stepped forward and listened to the low growl of the animal. Edward whistled once and then there was a single sharp bark. He led her forward, fingers laced with hers, until the light went from warm glow to bright and dazzling.

Isabella caught her breath. Before them was the most frightening creature that she had ever seen. Ten or twelve feet tall, he rose from the ground in a mass of black fur that gleamed in the dim light. His paws were larger than dinner plates and as he lifted one into the air, Isabella gasped and shifted back.

Edward tightened his grip on her with one hand while he snapped the fingers of his other hand. All three (three!) of the creature's heads snapped forward, and then he slowly lowered himself to the ground.

"He'll not hurt you," Edward repeated, his voice low and soothing as though she were a wary animal. Edward approached the dog and held his hand aloft. It let out a soft whine, and then laid the middle of its heads on his paws. Bella followed after him, keeping a bit behind him, as though she hoped she wouldn't be noticed.

"Good boy, Jake." Edward then said something soft and low to the animal, but Bella couldn't quite hear what. The dog let out a soft whine and Edward pulled Isabella forward, bringing their joined hands toward the animal. Bella made to skit, but Edward put his hand at the small of her back, and leaned forward and brushed her ear with his mouth, his voice a melodic whisper against her skin.

"I'm almost offended, Isabella. Do you think that for one moment that I would put you in harm's way? Your safety is of great importance to me." He drew back and as her face became soft, then flushed with heat. He felt the ripple of warmth as it travelled up her body, and he liked the way she couldn't meet his eyes just then, though he did allow her to keep her privacy in the moment.

As she looked away, he laid his hand across her heart, against her skin. Inside she felt like a whirlwind, a dervish had taken hold. Her heart pounded and blood raced, while her lungs ground to a halt, trapping her breath within her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but instead looked down at his hand on her. It wasn't hot, but it warmed her, the heat spreading slow, radiating out, until her arms began to feel loose and easy at her sides. She felt safe and enveloped, and not a little sleepy.

"Come," he said, his hand running down her arm, circling his fingers at her wrist.

The dog, Jake, lay with his heads on the ground, making small chuffing noises, as though he wanted to greet her as he would his master: boundless, eager energy.

Bella reached her hand forward, curling it as she'd been taught when approaching strange dogs. The animals sniffed at it once, and then turned all three heads to gaze upon her. The middle head, the largest, gave a soft whine before pressing its nose to her hand. The head to the right of her lay back down against the sand, and the one to the left began sniffing at her, shoving it's nose into her side, angling into her armpit.

Bella giggled and reached to pet it, and in a single, terrifying movement, the beast rolled onto his back and squirmed, much to Bella's delight.

"See? He likes you."

Edward watched as she approached the dog, her hand outstretched, untrembling. It felt good, light, to see her spread her wings and fly, but at the same time, he wanted her – he needed her – to need him.

Before she was close enough to touch Jake, Isabella turned, and held her hand to Edward. There was a smile on her face, glowing with fun, with happiness, and as Edward touched her, he felt his own heart lighten.

He stayed and held her hand, watching her pet the furry beast. He did not read her mind – did not try to do so, but he felt her happiness, and he drank it down as if it were his own. At last she dropped his hand, and began to scratch Jake's belly in earnest. Edward watched with jealous wonder. She gave herself over to the creature without fear – why couldn't she do that with him? And yet, watching her, the joy on her face…_he_ wanted to be the one to light the shine in her eyes.

"Isabella? We need to keep going. There is still much to see."

Bella stood, and turned to him, and his chest felt heavier as the smile fell from her face. She nodded her understanding and took her place, back by his side.

"You…you may visit him often, if you like." The words pained him, because already she liked the beast more than she liked him, yet her resulting smile was like springtime, like peonies in bloom.

"Flower-faced girl," he sighed, just loud enough for her to hear. "Come on."


	7. 7 Awe

**.**

**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 7: Awe**

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The antechamber to the Underworld was not what Bella had expected. The floor was dark, volcanic sand: so many tiny beads of glass. The walls shone with diamond and rubies, emeralds and gold. As Edward entered the room, sconces lit upon each wall, each of them cast shimmering light upon them.

Edward glowed, his pale skin turning golden, taking on the hues of the room around them. Isabella stared at him, transfixed by the change. He no longer wore the pale shine of the moon, but instead took on such rich color that before she knew it, she was reaching for him, to touch his face. As she pressed her fingers to his cheek, his lashes fluttered against his cheeks, and he pushed his face into her open hand. The image was so like that of a cat that Bella found herself waiting for him to purr.

They stayed like that until she breathed in and out once, twice. His eyes lit upon hers, green, so green that she felt they were blades of summer grass, moss in the shade of a tree, Spanish olives, brought to her from a far-off place.

"What you see may startle you," he said.

His fingers crept toward her hand, and laced hers within his. "Never be afraid. I will always keep you safe."

He waved his hand and the wall before them dissolved.

Elysian Fields lay before them, meadows of wildflowers in bright bloom against an impossible summer sky. Trees rustled with a cool breeze, and Bella felt as though she were seeing some kind of magic, not meant for mortal eyes.

She was right.

"What is this?" she asked, her hands brushing against the flowers that grew waist high.

"The fields of paradise? Heaven? You people have so many names for this place."

Bella twirled in the field, her arms outstretched like the heroine in one of her favorite movies.

"I feel like I should sing," she said, laughter in her voice.

"I think I'd like to see that."

Bella gave a twirl. "The hills are alive," she sang, her voice barely audible.

Edward laughed at her joy, the sound a cascade of delight, and it sounded, to her, like chimes playing the loveliest song she'd ever heard.

She twirled twice again, the scent of flowers kicking up, until it was heady and thick in her nose, inundating her with rich, floral spice.

An image, far off, at the edge of the field gave her pause. It was an old woman, her hair gone pale and thin, her frame bent, and fragile.

Bella watched the woman, and her hand rose against her throat.

"Gran?"

The woman looked up at the sound of Bella's voice, and Bella found herself pressing a fist harder against her own chest as a single tear traced its way down her cheek.

"Gran!"

In a moment she was off, bounding across the fields of flowers, oblivious to Edward's calls behind her. He watched her go, with the helplessness of a parent setting a child off to school: knowing the child would learn things that would both please and terrify them. Knowing that knowledge has a price.

Bella approached the woman, her steps both tentative and relentless.

Her fingers lifted to touch the silvery strands of hair, to stroke the skin, grown papery thin with age.

"Gran?"

"Beautiful girl," the woman said, and Isabella broke in that moment, her hands wrapping around the woman as she fell to her knees.

It was only a moment, a stumble, before Isabella learned the terrible truth: Even here, in paradise, shades were no more than ghosts of their former selves.

Isabella reached, time and again, for the image of her grandmother, the woman who bore her father, the woman that she looked so much like that it brought her father to a halt some days.

When she realized the truth – the terrible truth – that the comfort of her grandmother's arms would be denied her, she turned in a fury upon Edward.

"You did this!" she raged, her heart climbing to the top her throat. "Why would you do this to me?"

Her hands balled to fists and she flung herself against him, all her rage impotent against him, against a god.

Still, he stood for it. He let her fists beat against his chest, let her cling to his lapels and let her cry herself out against the crisp stiffness of his white shirt.

When she was done, he beckoned the shade toward him, and the woman complied (they always comply).

"If there are things you have to say, now is the time."

He disentangled himself from Isabella, and stepped away to give them the illusion, if not the fact, of privacy.

As they talked, he whistled to himself. Various shades came to beg his favor for this or that, and Athena's owl brought him scrolls from his brother and sister both.

When Isabella grew distraught, Edward dug his fingers into his own flesh rather than rush to her side. When she grew teary, he turned away, and when her voice bubbled with laughter, he found himself granting passes to the world above to three of the men who petitioned at his side.

Chagrinned, Edward waved toward the shade, and soon, Isabella found herself alone, again.

"It's cruel," she said, "to give me so much, and not enough."

"It's not my cruelty," he answered. "It simply is."

Isabella groaned her own dismay, then asked him to take her away.

He complied, his fingers lacing hers again, feeling only the sadness as it seeped out of her pores, out of her heart, into the very air around them.

"Elysian Fields," he said, "is only for the purest of hearts. It is a paradise where there is no cold, no heat, no fear, nor hunger, nor pain. Only everlasting springtime, everlasting birdsongs, everlasting joy. Can you be happy, Isabella, that you've met someone you love in such a place?"

Isabella looked at her feet as she walked, and answered him not.

She was not a child. She felt the awe of such a beautiful place, felt the joy that its inhabitants felt, as much as she felt the mild breezes that carried so much cool air across her skin. _I can be happy,_ she thought, _if only for Gran. I can be happy._

Her happiness, though, was soaked with sorrow, and Edward despaired for a toy, a trinket, that might bring her back to happiness. He wanted her to be willing. He longed for her to make the choice.

But if she wouldn't, well…he still had other ways.


	8. 8 Worry

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**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 8: Worry**

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The tour of the Underworld went quickly thereafter. Edward showed Isabella the Asphodel fields, full of those who time had forgotten. He took her past the entrance to Tartarus, and whispered that she should never, ever enter there. He led her to the five rivers, and explained their purpose in turn: this one for sorrow, this one for lamentation, that one burned with fire, this one reeked with the too-sweet scent of forgetfulness.

"And of course, you've seen the Styx."

Isabella nodded. Her hand was so small against his large palm, and he marveled again at the fragility of her – small, thin bones and tender, tender skin.

"Where do you live? I mean, do you have a…house?"

Edward smiled. The word was so mismatched, both for the Underworld, and for the palace he would take her to see.

"This way," he said, wrapping his arm about her shoulders and spinning them once around.

When he stopped, they stood on marble steps encrusted with jewels. Columns of silver and gold stood tall, and Bella gaped at them in wonder.

"It's _so_ beautiful. How can you…I mean…." He grasped her question and chuckled.

"It's why my brothers all hate me, you know. As the god of the Underworld, all of the earthly goods belong to me, save those that belong to the Oceans. Every pieces of gold, of silver, every precious gem…they are all within my domain."

Isabella closed her mouth, trying to work her head around the riches her suitor must possess. The crossed into the receiving hall, and she saw that the marble floors were inlaid with gold, each panel telling one story or another in pictures. There was writing on the walls, as well; some language she didn't understand but it was beautiful, nonetheless.

"This is your home?" she asked, and Edward's heart panged. Home? No…he had never felt the simple pleasure of home, of ease and comfort and happiness to return to one place each day. He felt relief, at times, that he had a place to escape the daily turmoil, the pain of lives left to live too long, to suffer. The bewilderment of those who felt they'd been taken too soon, and the help entreaties of the living, as they begged for just one more day, one more hour, one more moment of happiness with their loved ones.

He did not understand them, these humans. Death was a matter of course, and only the Gods were immortal. To grant their wishes would not be a kindness. It would create more turmoil, more fear, more suffering. It was a grim responsibility, housing the souls of the dead, but it was necessary, and, Edward liked to think he did it well.

"This is where I live," he answered.

He led her through the halls, allowing her to peek into this room or that. There was a music room where talented shades were invited to play, and where Edward sometimes joined them. There was a feast set in the banquet hall, tables laid heavy with food of every flavor, every spice. There was a library, and Isabella clapped her hands together as she walked along its walls, taking in titles and running her fingertip over the spines of her favorites.

There was a room full of toys, creations of Athena or Vulcan, or sometimes Daedelus. Edward walked to a shelf and plucked a butterfly from the mass. It had wings of pink gossamer and a body of steel. He whispered to it, and it fluttered on his fingers, then flew toward Bella, lighting upon her outstretched hand.

Bella cooed at the small creature, before holding it aloft. It clicked and fluttered about Bella's head, and the girl smiled with delight.

_Yes,_ Edward thought. _ I can charm her with toys, and ply her with jewels. I can make her mine._

When the creation resumed its place upon the shelf, Bella smiled at it, in a forlorn way. Edward picked it up again and held it out to the girl.

"I insist. Anything that makes you smile so shall be yours."

The butterfly flew around her once, twice, before alighting on her shoulder, where it looked as pretty as a decorative brooch. Now and again as they walked, Bella would look at it, and the creature would flutter its wings with pleasure.

"Did you make this?" she asked, and Edward had to bow his head, no.

"It's so clever. Who did?"

"I believe that is one of Athena's creations – she likes to think she can improve upon the original design of things." Edward wore his lopsided grin, and Isabella felt he was letting her in on some secret that only they knew. It felt nice, good, to be held in his confidence.

"So," he asked, as they approached the banquet hall. "How do you like my kingdom? Is it – is it all you'd hoped?"

Isabella stopped and stared up, into his green eyes that shined like springtime. She wanted to say yes, and tell him so with no reservations. She took his hand in hers and when she felt him pushing into her mind, she allowed it.

There, he saw her conflict. He saw her hopes of long talks with her Gran, and her enchantment with the mechanical butterfly. He saw her wonder at what other charms his halls might hold. And he saw himself, through her eyes. Handsome. Fearsome.

"You are undecided," he said.

She ducked her head and pulled her hand away.

He wanted her to say yes to him. He wanted her to want him, to take his kisses with a happy heart, to desire him, to desire this – his life. He wanted her to want him. But no matter what he offered her, he feared it would never be enough.

Edward had hoped that she would make the choice of her own free will. He'd hoped that he would not have to resort to trickery, but he _knew_ that if he had to, he would make the choice for her.

It was the last thing he wanted, and the only thing he trusted.

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**AN:** My apologies for not replying to your reviews. FFN has been a jumbo ball of fail, and most of the time when I click on the reply button, it tells me it can't find the review at all. Boo!

Please know that I read every review, and every. Single. One. Makes my day. Thank you, thank you. Thank you.


	9. 9 Fragments

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**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 9: Fragments**

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Bella allowed Edward to lead her forward. They stepped into the banquet hall and he led her past the tables laden with food.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"No, but thank you."

The array of food was tempting, but her head and heart churned, and she felt like she didn't have enough time to make a decision. Edward's world was appealing, no doubt. It was beautiful, but filled with frightening things, and really, wasn't that an apt description of life?

Bella wondered if she could be useful, there in the Underworld. Would her days be spent in idyll, with no real responsibility, or would she have tasks, duties to perform, responsibilities? She longed for the latter, but didn't know if it was possible.

Edward watched her, wary, as she sorted things in her head. He longed to force his way into her mind, to learn where she was, what she thought. He longed for more than she gave, but then, wasn't that the problem?

"I know this is a lot for you," he said. "How can I help?"

Isabella shook her head. "It's not…it's just…what would I _do_ all day? What do you do?"

And so Edward tried to walk her though his day: he sat on his throne and heard the pleas of the dead. He righted petty wrongs between the shades, and he determined where each shade would reside for eternity.

It was not nearly as glamourous as she had imagined.

"So then, in your vision of the future, what would I do all day?"

It was a question Edward was ill-prepared to answer, so he said the words that first came to him.

"Why, be my queen, of course."

Isabella dropped his hand and looked around the sumptuous room. Serving Edward would be a great honor, she knew. She would sit upon his gold throne, perhaps with a golden crown. She would wear magnificent robes, and…and hold his hand? Look down upon the newly dead with superiority, or compassion?

True, his halls were filled with beautiful things: toys and mysteries, and riches untold. But would that be enough?

As she thought, her life came back to her in fragments:

The warm summer day when her father taught her to ride a bicycle. Indian Summer and her birthday, with buttercream icing melting in the heat, as her mother insisted on just one more photo. Carousel rides at the zoo, and her absolute wonder at seeing Disneyland for the first, and only, time.

Jacob Black, her first kiss, came rushing to her mind. The tallness of him, as he'd shot up over that summer, and how warm he was, always. She remembered sitting in his lap on cool nights beside a bonfire, listening to the stories of his tribal elders. The things they didn't know….

Would it be enough, to be his queen?

She thought about what she was giving up: infrequent phone calls from a father she no longer knew, and more infrequent calls from her mother, who had remarried and seemingly forgotten about her only child, her best friend.

"Would I be allowed to go up, into the world? Or would I have to stay here with you?"

If she'd understood how frightening her question was to him, she never would have asked it. Because instead of her simple, reasonable question, what Edward heard was this: Will I be trapped here, with you? Forever?"

"It is generally not acceptable for one who lives here to leave."

"So if I stay with you, it would be…for the rest of my life?"

"It would be forever, Isabella. If you are my queen, it would be forever."

Isabella knew she had to make a decision, and for the life of her, she didn't know what it should be. Should she stay with Edward, with his dark green eyes and mercurial ways? Or should she return to her own life, lonely and alone, waiting, always, for something to shake the doldrums from her days?

And perhaps, while she was there, underneath the world and captive to his enchantments, she was not well prepared to make any decision at all. Perhaps she should decide from the comfort of her bed, the quiet solitude of her rooms.

Perhaps she should decide after Edward, in all of his godly glory, offered her his mouth. Was that too much to ask?

Isabella thought not.

"I think…do I have to decide right now?"

Edward wanted to scream yes. He wanted to catch her mouth with his, catch her body in his hands and hold it up against him while he kissed her, while he tasted her, while he loved her.

Instead, he fought his grimace.

"Of course not, Isabella." He reached for the butterfly that was fluttering just over her head. "Perhaps you'd like to come watch me work, and perhaps have a snack while you…make your decision."

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**AN:**

Review replies are still effed. I'm sorry.

This will be 25 chapters, and the story based on the outline I created for the original Twilight 25 prompts. This story also loosely follows the original myth of Persephone and Hades. Wiki that shit if you don't know what's coming, or don't, if you'd like to be surprised.

Thank you for reading.


	10. 10 Restraint

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**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 10: Restraint**

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Edward led Bella to the throne room. Outside, there was a long queue of people, well, souls, really, seeking an audience with their new king. He climbed the steps to the throne – large, long, marble steps, that made Bella think of a courthouse – and then picked the golden crown that lay on the seat. He placed it carefully upon his head, and sat upon the throne.

Bella watched him from the side of the room, uncertain whether she should occupy the throne that was to the left of Edward, or if she should simply stand in the corner. A moment later, a shade came to her, carrying a large, comfortable looking chair, made of wood and padded with velvet.

"My lady?" He gestured her toward the seat, and so Bella sat. The soul then went to Edward, who spoke quietly to before making a motion with his hand. The shade turned and opened the door, allowing in the first ten souls in line.

Edward watched Isabella as he worked. He saw as she leaned forward, intent on hearing this plea or that. She'd cock her head to one side, listening, deciding, and he could tell by the way her brow puckered or smoothed whether she agreed with his decision.

She did not often agree with him.

After the first host had passed through his hall, he summoned Isabella to his throne.

"Well, what do you think so far?" He tried to give her his best smile, perhaps to dazzle her into thinking that his job was not the trudgery that, in reality, it was.

"I'm not sure I understand," she said. "You never really give them what they want, and, well, they're already dead. Can't you be…nicer?"

Edward yearned to sigh at her naiveté. He wanted her grasp, easily, the complications of giving the dead their wishes: should he allow the earth to be overrun with the souls of the dead? She he let this one visit his grieving wife, or that one her weeping mother? How long before there was no barrier between the dead and living? And who would help the living fulfill their duties – to live – if they were constantly pulled into dreams by the dead?

"It is not so simple," he said.

And then he explained to her why, and he believed that she listened.

When he was done, he motioned to the page again, and he brought forth another host of ten, and then another, and then another.

"There are so many," she said, as Edward broke and came to her side.

"Yes. As your world grows, so does mine."

"You must be weary – all those decisions to make."

Edward smiled, and it was indulgent. "Weary? Pet, I am immune such…human failings."

"Oh."

Isabella stood, looking at her feet, her long, dark hair making a curtain about her face. Edward knew in a moment that he'd said something wrong. He motioned to the page again, and then brought his hand to Isabella's face.

"Does it pain you to know that we're so different?"

Isabella shook her head, but would not meet his gaze.

"I know it's hard to imagine right now, but if you stay with me, you would change. You would become...like me."

"I would be a god?"

Edward cocked his head, smiling at her. "You would be immortal."

"Oh."

As she considered his statement, the shades arrived with a repast. There were cheeses and meats and fruits, pastries that made Bella's mouth water with the looking. She found herself gazing at the food, and wishing she had more of a hunger than she did.

"Please," Edward said, pulling a cushion up and folding his long legs beneath him. "Join me for a meal?"

Isabella sat beside him, and considered the meal. She watched as he piled her plate high with delicacies that both looked and smelled delicious, but noticed that he only took a small serving of food for himself.

"You're not eating," she said, staring down at her plate.

"I don't need to," he answered. "But I do enjoy the ritual of it – the breaking of a fast, and of course the flavors, the aroma."

He held a strawberry before her and then dipped it into cream and sugar.

"This is my favorite," he said, offering her the plump berry.

But Bella shook her head.

Instead, she watched him as he ate, taking a small bite of this or that, his moans of pleasure lighting a hunger within her that had nothing to do with food.

"Is this not to your liking?" Edward asked, after sighing over a bit of roast beef.

"No! It's lovely, really. I guess I'm just not that hungry."

"Won't you try a bit? For me?"

Isabella looked over her plate. There were chocolate creams and charred fowl, herbed vegetables gleaming with butter, and cheese that looked rich and creamy. There was wine in a golden goblet before her, and Edward frequently took sips from his own glass, each time tilting it toward Isabella in a sign of invitation.

At last, she setting on a cluster of dark red berries that seemed to glow with light from within. She'd never seen a food so pretty before, and she was curious about their flavor. Would they be sweet? Tart? Bitter?

She brought one to her mouth, and felt its smooth shape with her tongue. It was small and firm. She finally pressed it against her teeth, and the flavor burst upon her tongue – sweet and tart and bitter, all at once. There was a small seed in the middle, which she swallowed easily.

As the seed made its way down her throat, she found that craved more; she wanted wine and meat and mead, honey and sweets, and most of all, more of those strange, delicious berries. She cautioned herself not to be a pig; her mother had always told her to be cautious of a generous host.

She took two more of the seeds into her mouth, closing her eyes to relish their strange flavor.

When she opened her eyes and looked up, she found Edward staring at her, the smile on his face beatific.

Isabella's hand fell from her mouth, food forgotten.

"What is it?"

Edward rose, then came around to her side. He lifted her as though she weighed a feather , all the while smiling at her – at her – as though she was the most precious, most beautiful woman in the world.

"Isabella," he whispered, his fingers caressing her column of her neck, his thumb grazing her cheek. "Mine. You are mine."

His mouth came to rest upon hers, and in that moment, she found herself floating, falling, the kiss consuming her in a daze of heat and fire that never burned. Her fingers found the silk of his hair and her body pressed against him, arching and stretching, trying to climb inside of him, to see if he could quench the fury in her blood.

Edward, however, broke the kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers, his mouth breathing pants of warm breath against her lips.

"Mine."


	11. 11 Rapacious

**.**

**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 11: Rapacious**

"Come with me?" he asked, lacing his fingers through hers. They were so solid, and yet she knew that if she pulled, he would easily let her go.

Instead, she nodded, and Edward held her close to his chest. In a moment – _it could not have been more than a moment,_ she thought, they were on the banks of a river, moonlight, or…something…casting silvery shadows around them.

Edward led her below a tree, and Isabella listened to the song of the nightjars, clustered on a branch above her. It was a beautiful, lilting song, but something in the tune made her sad. It made her think of home, of things she'd miss if she chose to stay with Edward, to be his queen.

His grace still startled her, though she admired it, as he lowered himself to the ground, and then pulled her gently onto his lap. She placed her arms around his neck, and he reveled in her touch: warm and soft, tentative fingers tracing over his smooth skin.

"Isabella." It was a whisper, joy and desperation mingled, and she felt his emotions like a body between them. He captured her face in his hands, and his eyes burned, glowed, teeming with emotions that she could barely decipher. "I have waited all of existence for you."

She closed her eyes. It was more responsibility than she could bear. His love, his need for her, how could she fulfill a desire than had been epochs in the making?

Before she could answer him, his mouth touched hers again and she shivered at the warmth of it. His lips were soft, warm velvet against her mouth, and when she opened it to sigh, he made free to taste her.

She was sweetness and light on his tongue, sugary warm, fresh strawberries maybe, and he had to stay his godly strength, lest he harm her in his need – Gods, it was consuming him – to taste her, more and more. She brought her hands to his face, and the kiss that began tender deepened. She shifted on his lap, turning to face him, and as her fingers stroked his hair, he felt it: her need.

It was not a curiosity, but something fierce and panting inside of her. Something that made her press herself against him, made her want to be inside of him, as much as he longed to be inside of her.

And then he realized it – he was inside of her. He was inside of her mind, and every feathery thought of want and need and more was not his own chanting, but hers. It made him want her more, his need redoubled, fierce and feral and tearing at him because he could not shed his skin to let her inside, he could not hold her, physically, inside of his heart, where he knew she would always be warm, and safe.

Isabella felt his need, his want, and it was…intoxicating and paralyzing and energizing at once. She didn't understand it – the connection between them that let him inside of her mind, that let her sense his feelings. She only knew that here, now, it was creating a storm between then. No, a storm _of_ them, and if she'd had a rational thought, she would fear for the safety of them both, lest their need for one another consume them, but she did not.

Instead, she found herself mired in his taste – caramel and smoky sweet, and she pressed herself against him, her breasts aching for his hands, her body hot with need. He felt him stiffen, then press himself against her, so that he was holding her tightly, one hand in her hair, the other pressed against the center of her back.

She gasped, hot, into his mouth, and edward felt her need. He disentangled his hand from her hair and brought it, with slow deliberation, to her chest. He'd heard her desire, saw the image in her mind, and yet he felt uncertainty for the first time in his life. As he brushed his hand across the top of her dress, the top of her breast, he felt her suck in air and he probed her, wondering if he was doing it right.

She strained against his hand and then placed her own hand upon his, pushing him to touch her needy flesh.

"Yes," she whispered, and like that, he was lost. It was heavy and firm, and with each pulse of his fingers, her heart quickened its pace, until it he feared it would tear through her chest. He saw then, the images that ran through her mind – the two of them joined, her slender thighs brought up around his waist, as he rocked into her and she rocked back.

It shook him – the idea that she would allow him to have her this way – that she would give herself to him. That she would let him inside.

"Oh, Isabella. My Bella." He whispered the words against her cheek, and tasted the skin of her neck, her ear, before tracing the curl of her collar bones with his tongue.

"You shine like the moonlight, here in my world. You are…exquisite."

And then his world came tumbling apart, because the girl in his arms, who was pliant and grasping, became stiff and pushing, until she'd separated herself from him, and sat, panting, on the river banks.

His mind sought hers, sought to know what he'd done so wrong, and how to remedy it. What he found instead only raised his ire, until he found himself pushing away from the bank, away from the girl, to pace his fury out in the stand of trees behind them.

_"Like moonlight," he said, his fingers brushing against her skin._

The memory of it tugged at her heart, and he'd felt it, felt her sorrow for that other God, that _whelp,_ who was no more worthy of her than was Zeus himself.

He should have know, he thought. He should have known. No woman, no creature as dazzling as Isabella would ever want to be with the likes of him. He lived in the world of the dead. He was surrounded by nothing beautiful, he could give her nothing pure, nothing clean. He was a monster.

He prepared to banish her from him. He thought, for a moment, of sending her back to her sun-god, to see how she'd like him, away from their moonlit beach, away from a single week of tryst that couldn't possibly reveal to her his tempestuous nature.

_If she wants the whelp,_ he thought, _let her have him._

But the moment he thought of it, of her leaving him, the sadness sank into him, leaving him tugging at his hair, half-bent and needing to scream.

It was then that he remembered the pomegranate – the three bright berries she'd eaten that sealed her fate.

When he approached her, she sat drawn up into herself, her chin on her knees, and her arms around them.

He held his hand out to her and she took it, but the hesitancy in the move left him reeling with rejection.

"Understand that you belong to me now, Isabella. Think of him if you must, but it makes no matter. You are mine now, and you will never leave."

.

.


	12. 12 Slip

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**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 12: Slip**

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Edward brought Isabella back to the palace in the time it took her to draw a breath. She felt something coming off of him – anger she thought, but she wasn't sure. What she was certain of was the loss of equilibrium she felt from his quick change in temper. He was at one moment kind, another lustful, another joyous, another angry.

Isabella wondered if she'd ever be able to keep up.

He led her by the wrist to a pair of doors. They were large, with ornate pictures carved into dark wood, and highlighted here and there by gold.

"These are your chambers. I'll leave you now."

"Wait! What did you mean…I'm yours now? I don't understand."

"No, I'm sure you don't, and I'm not inclined to explain it at the moment. Good evening."

He turned and left in a motion she couldn't track. It was as though he'd disappeared.

Isabella stared into the empty space for a moment, and then she pushed open one of the heavy doors to her "chambers." She expected opulence – gold and gilt and velvets. What she saw instead caught the breath in her throat.

She stood at the threshold, her fingers still resting on the opulent door handle (it was made of sapphires and some silver precious metal) and stared. The room before her was…an exact replica of the bedroom in her small apartment.

She peered around the room, noticing the single bed that she'd moved from her father's home into her first apartment, shared with three other girls, and then into the small studio apartment that she'd leased after graduation. The dresser, battered from multiple moves as well, stood covered with the detrius of her life: receipts and small change, a pair of tights she'd pulled out of the drawer while trying to find something else, a jewelry box, and a couple of framed photos.

On her nightstand, she found the pile of books that she'd haphazardly placed there – some were meant to be read, some were old favorites, and some she'd just finished. They should have gone back on the bookshelf that stood in the corner of the room, but it was overflowing with even more books and odd knick-knacks: a vase from a bouquet that her mother had sent one year for Bella's birthday; a small tin that held various ticket stubs from concerts and events; a wooden puzzle box that was meant to hide treasures, but which was empty, because Bella had never found anything important enough to hide in its tiny chamber.

She spun around once more, then went to the closet, where she found all of her clothes – nothing was missing. As she sank down onto the bed, she found herself on the verge of tears.

Had it all been a dream? Was she really back home?

As her fingers gripped, and then smoothed the bedding, she realized no – this was not her home. It was a copy, made by some magic she couldn't fathom. The linens beneath her fingers were softer than anything she'd ever owned. When she perused the clothes in her closet, she found them all the same, yet…different. The cut of the clothing was sharper, with each item seeming to be tailored just for her. And yet, her favorite sweater, which had hung down to her thighs and had sleeves that enveloped her fingers – that sweater was _exactly _the same. Only softer.

The comfort of being surrounded by her own, familiar things was overwhelming, and the thoughtfulness of his gesture brought tears to her eyes. Whatever it was that Edward wanted from her, she saw he was willing to give of himself in return.

Isabella lay down on the bed and tried to catch up to her thoughts, almost all of which centered on Edward. She'd enjoyed his company, his playful smile and the way he'd grin at her sometimes, like he knew everything in the world. She'd also loved watching his smile fall as she'd said or done something he wasn't expecting. He seemed omnipotent, and yet…he wasn't.

She remembered the smile on his face – that dazzling one he'd given her when she'd eaten the pomegranate seeds. He'd shined then – so beautifully – that Isabella had wanted nothing more than to bask in the center of his world. And then he was angry…so angry that Isabella trembled, because truly, it was a fearsome sight.

Still, whether he frightened or delighted her, she found herself longing for his company. It was a curious thing – like yearning for a jar full of fire and brimstone, understanding she might get burned – but she wanted it all the same.

At some point, Edward had slipped under her skin. She was in awe of his world, of him. She wanted him to be open with her, to let her inside. She wanted him to talk to her – no more half-riddles and cloaked statements. She wanted him to see her as his equal, and not some insignificant human girl, who knew almost nothing of his godly world.

Isabella turned onto her side and hugged her pillow close. She understood how he might desire her, as a plaything. But equals? He could never hold her in that light. And she? She could never hold him at all.

.

.


	13. 13 Comfort

**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 13: Comfort**

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Isabella wept, quiet, almost silent tears. When she breathed in, the scent of her fabric softener on the pillow brought her comfort, but when she breathe out, it was lost, like her breath. She wanted to be held, to be shushed and told that everything would, somehow, work out.

She longed – for the first time – for Edward's arms around her; for the way he would tuck her into his side so that she could bury her face in his chest, like a small, protected bird. The way he would whisk her around, from one place to another. She wondered if he would ever want to be with her like that again.

Somewhere between wishing Edward would appear, and hating him for leaving her alone, Isabella became aware of someone else in the room. She sat up from the bed, startled, and found herself staring at a woman with taffy colored hair and beautiful, topaz eyes.

Isabella wanted to ask the obvious questions. Who was this woman? What did she want? Had Edward sent for her?

Instead, she stared and gaped, until the woman stepped forward. Isabella found herself holding out a hand, as if to stop the woman. When the woman halted, Isabella felt both comforted and surprised. Though she clung to everything she knew before she came to this strange place, she was bright enough to realize that everything she knew before, was wrong.

Mystical beings exist. Heaven and hell exist on the same plane. The gods and goddesses from her childhood mythology stories were…real. _Real._

"Oh", you poor, frightened thing. It's okay, I won't hurt you."

When the woman spoke, Isabella's wandering mind came back to her in a sharp gust of reality.

"Who are you? How did you get here? What's…what's happening?"

"Shh." The woman stepped forward with her hands before her. She reached for Isabella and the moment their skin met, Isabella felt calmed.

"My domain is over women, and marriage. As you seem to be both a woman and married, I thought I should come and visit with you. I have many names, but you may call me Esme. Come, now."

Esme let Isabella to a settee, and the two women sat, holding hands.

Isabella's mind circled the woman's words, sounding them out in her head, trying to make sense of them. Most of them made sense to her. Most of them, if she remembered where she was, and the kind of people she was with, could be brought to some sort of logic. One, though, did not. "I'm not…I'm not married."

She stared at the lovely, motherly woman with confusion, which grew to panic as she saw Esme's own confusion rise.

"Isabella? Of course you are. You ate from his table…you and he are bound."

Bella looked down at her hands. They were small, too small, really, with clean nails and smooth skin that telegraphed her youth. She held her left hand out to Esme, showing her bare hand.

"I don't have a ring. We said no vows. I'm not married."

Esme took Bella's chin in her hand, and stared hard into the girl's eyes. She saw confusion there, swirling in the brown-flecked-with-gold irises. She saw hope and need, and a tender, lost look that made Esme's heart clench for the child that she had once borne, but lost.

She saw no fear.

Breathing deep, she began to speak. "It is…it is a custom, here, a…a law, that when one eats from the banquet for the dead, that one accepts their," she paused, swallowed, and then continued. "Their fate. Edward, he explained all of this to you. In my glass, I saw you linger at the banquet, making up your mind." Esme watched the girl's confusion grow and a terrible thought came to her. "He did explain it, right? The price you pay for eating at his table. Right?"

Isabella's face began to bunch and her eyes began to dampen. A single tear, a crystal yet fallen, clung to dark lashes at the corner of her left eye. Yet she held Esme's gaze.

_She__daren__'__t__look__down,__lest__a__tear__actually__fall,_ she thought, admiring the girl's resolve, her strength.

"I ate three seeds, of some ruby fruit, and now-"

_Mine, you are mine. _

_Understand that you belong to me now…._

_You are mine now, and you will never leave._

"…And now I am his." She nodded her head and Esme watched as she tried to come to terms with her future, there in that dark place. The way the girl held herself, spine straight and shoulders tight, resolve inching through her flesh.

"A marriage of deceit is not a marriage at all. Come."

Esme took Bella's hand and held her close. In that embrace, Bella felt her mother's arms, her father's when she was small and hurt and afraid. She smelled her mother's perfume, and the stinky aftershave her father had worn, up until the day her mother left. She smelled her Gran, fruit and spices and there, in that embrace, she felt safe. She felt loved.

Pushing the girl away with a gentle hand, she bid the girl to open her eyes.

When she did, Isabella again felt awe. Pale marble and columns of gold lay before her eyes. The hall was immense, it seemed to go for miles and miles, yet there was a bank of thrones on either side, and Isabella did not have to ask to whom they belonged.

The older woman watched with a measure of indulgence and amusement. The halls of Olympus were grand, and yet living in them, day after day, Esme had grown indifferent to their opulence. Seeing it fresh, through Bella's eyes, made her appreciate anew the beauty that surrounded her life.

"It's beautiful," Bella said, turned to take in her surroundings. In one corner of the room a hearth stood, cold and pale. With a wave of her hand, Esme brought it to life and led Bella forward. In her wake, flowers and bloomed and vines grew, twisting up the golden columns, coming to life as she passed by.

She turned and caught Bella's wide eyes.

"I'm not as talented as some, in that regard, but I do enjoy bringing a little life to this old place. Welcome to Olympus, Isabella. Welcome to my home."

.

**AN:**

Regarding updates: Tonight, I was feeling this story. I hope it continues so that I can finish this quickly. I make no promises, but I am sorry for those of you who have been waiting. I won't make excuses. Please know that I'm sorry to have let any of you down.

This chapter is written with thanks to **kitty****j,** who asked for it in the nicest way possible. Thank you.


	14. 14 Alone

**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 14: Alone**

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.

Isabella turned once, and then again, eyeing the beauty surrounding her. Why was everything so beautiful? She wondered. Do they even appreciate it anymore, or is it just so much furniture to them?

Esme took Bella's hand in hers. "It is very beautiful, isn't it? And yet…sometimes we do take it for granted. Come along."

The turned from the grand hallway and into a smaller set of apartments, still made of marble and gold, still warm despite the cold materials. At the far end, a man stood, looking over a table filled with crystals. Now and again he would pick one up, shake it, and stare into it, only to put it back down with a frustrated sigh.

"Darling? Still trying to play with my toys?" Esme tugged Isabella forward, and the man stood up with a sheepish look on his face. Bella's breath caught. Even with the sheepish grin, he was one of the most handsome men she'd ever seen. He was tall, with thick, golden hair and his eyes seemed to swim from amber to gold and back again. His skin was not pale and not dark, but somehow seemed to shimmer with a golden sheen. He looked warm and yet…terrifying.

And then he smiled. "You must be Isabella," he said, straightening and walking toward her. His smile revealed perfect, white teeth, and Bella found herself returning his grin. "Well, I can see why he's so taken with you. You _are_ lovely."

The blush that lit her cheeks only caused her further embarrassment, thus piquing their color further. The man took her chin in his hand and she found herself meeting his golden gaze as he cocked his head. "Hmm…yes. Well," he said, turning to Esme. "To what do I owe the honor? Shouldn't she be with Edward?"

"That, darling, is the problem. Seems your boy's made a mess of things, again."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Better call the council. Once he discovers her missing, all Hell is going to break loose."

.

After Esme asked Carlisle (_Carlisle,_ she thought – _not a name for a god at all_) to call the council, she left Isabella alone in the room with the comfortable chairs and the table full of crystals. She was drawn to them, how they shimmered and sparked. Some were pale and milky white, while some glowed blue or purple, lavender and pink. She reached for them…wanting to touch them and yet somehow frightened. Would they shock her? Hurt her? She knew they were some kind of magic, but for ill or good, she wasn't sure.

She was startled out of her ponderings when a small, dark haired nymph came bursting into the room.

"Esme? I've got the—OH!" The spritely girl came to a halt and Isabella stared. She wore loose, filmy clothing that danced around her small frame. Her head was a mass of jet black curls held off of her face by a thin golden band. She had wide, gray eyes and a smile that showed too many teeth.

"Oh, you're her," she said, and moved toward Bella with envious grace. "I'm…Alice. I came to give Esme her crystals back, but she's not here now. Hmm."

Alice spun around Bella and laid the crystals in her hand on the table, positioning them with precision. She gazed at the table for what seemed to be minutes, and then plucked two of the most vibrant wands from the table.

She held them in her hand for a moment, and whispered something under her breath, so soft and fast that Bella couldn't make out the words. She turned and held the items out to Bella.

"Would you see that Esme gets these? They're important." With that, she blinked her gray eyes at Bella and walked out of the apartment, her skirts swirling around her as she went.

Bella sat down on the arm of the smallest chair. She held the crystals between her hands, enjoying the warmth that came from them. They pulsed, soft twitches of heat against her palm, and she brought one close up to look at it.

The bright purple of the wand grew milky, twisting into lavender, with swirls of pink and red. It felt alive in her hand, and as she watched the colors change, she noticed a distinct shape taking form. The milky colors cleared, and Bella found herself gazing at Edward.

Though the wand was small enough to fit into her hand, the image it projected was life-sized and so solid that Isabella felt she would be able to touch it, if she dared.

Edward sat upon his throne, hearing the pleas of the dead before him. He did not smile or frown, but there was a sadness in his face that tugged at her heart. She wanted to turn his face to hers, sooth the soft crease between his brow with her thumb until she was certain he'd be okay again.

After a moment of staring, she watched as he rose from the throne and set aside his crown. He turned his back on the crowd before him, and slipped behind the crimson curtain to the left. She watched as he followed a winding path which led to the one door she recognized: the door to her room.

His hand reached out for the handle and then jerked back as though it burned. He stood before the door, hand outstretched for moments, before finally allowing his hand to come to rest on the ornate wood. His fingertips traced one of the carvings, and Bella recognized the Minotaur from the fables of her youth. As she watched, he rested his forehead on the door and the expression on his face...was he in pain?

Bella felt the corners of her mouth turn down and the wetness on her lashes. She didn't understand him. He acted so sad, but he'd been so mean – his temper would flare and she'd cower, but as soon as he was calmed, he was contrite, and his loving glances, the way he'd touch her skin, as if she was made of spun sugar, frail glass – he drew her in and drove her away the moment she came too close.

Watching him, she felt she was coming to understand him. Despite the shades that surrounded him, despite having people on Olympus who knew him, and seemed to care for him, he was, at his core, alone.

When she looked back to the crystal, she found him sitting with his back to her door. He contemplated his long fingers, folded in his lap. He leaned his head back and sighed, the white collar of his dress shirt gaping a bit with the deep inhale of breath. The skin beneath gleamed pale light, and she remembered him telling her that her skin was like moonlight.

With a start, he stood, his movements pulling Bella out of her memories. He cocked his head toward the door, as if he was listening to something. She watched as his frown turned to fury and he burst through the door to her rooms, standing in the middle and turning full circle around.

She watched as he yelled her name, reading his lips, twisted with rage.

He looked up toward the sky and she could almost hear his curses.

He turned then, and Bella's heart caught in her throat. He seemed to be staring right at her. "Esme," he mouthed. "Gods damn you! Isabella!"

The crystal in her hand burned, and Isabella dropped it, shattering the vision into a thousand tiny shards. As she bent to retrieve the pieces, the floor beneath her feet began to shake, and the room was filled with a deafening roar.

"Isabella!"

The sound of her own name had never frightened her more.


	15. 15 Vibrant

**And Yet They Shine**

**Vibrant**

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The walls of Olympus took shape around him, but Edward was too angry to notice.

"Esme! Where is she?" His voice boomed through the still air, echoing off of marble and glass.

"Edward." The soft tone of his brother's voice drew his attention, but did not stop his furious footsteps from pounding through the hall. He _would_ find Esmerelda and she _would_ return Bella to him.

"Edward, stop. You'll frighten her."

Carlisle's ploy worked. Edward did stop, almost mid-step, before turning on his brother. The anger inside of him seethed and writhed, was a visible thing on his face. Carlisle averted his eyes for a moment, sorry to see one that he cared for in such pain.

"Where is she?" The younger man glared at his brother, green eyes bright with fury and bronzed hair disheveled more so than usual. He kept his voice low and tight, but Carlisle could feel the heat of his anger.

"We have her," Carlisle said, placing his hand on Edward's forearm. "She is safe. Be easy, brother."

Edward hissed and shook the man off. "Easy? She was stolen from my home! Who does that wife of yours think she is? She has no right!" Edward's voice rose, finishing with a yell.

"I have every right, you fool!" Esme stepped out from behind a gilt column and nudged her husband aside. "You know damned well what you've done. Your claim to her is void." Esme's angry voice belied her calm appearance.

"Void? You cannot void the prophecy – she is mine!"

Esme's temper flared brighter, "You know as well as I the laws of hospitality. You tricked that girl into binding herself to you. I won't have it Edward. She will not honor a contract she did not willingly enter into."

"This is not your business, Esme! What happens in my house, how I rule, is not yours to decide!" Edward squared his shoulders. He would not back down.

"The rules of hospitality apply to us all. You cannot bind her to you with a lie, anymore than I can save her from you if she decides that you are what she wants. The rules apply to all of us!"

"Stop it, both of you!" The voice of the human girl, raised in anger, brought a halt to Edward and Esme's argument.

She whirled on Edward and he looked at the beautiful creature before him. She wore a simple white tunic, probably something from Esme, and her hands were balled into fists. Her hair was wild, falling all around her face and shoulders, and her eyes sparked with bright fire. This girl, this woman, she danced him to the edge of sanity, of desire and greed, and he found himself ambivalent about his impending descent into madness. _Aren__'__t__we__all__a__little__mad_, he thought.

"Who do you think _you_ are?" she asked, her voice stirring the very blood in his veins. "You come onto me like some fallen angel, some broken thing, and the moment I trust you, you turn on me. You…you tried to trap me, Edward. How could you?"

"And you," she said, whirling to speak to Esme. "You acted like you were my friend, and then you turned everything upside down! What did you think would happen? Did you think he'd just let you take me away? Do you know what that must have been like for him, to find me missing? Of course he's in a panic - you violated his trust!"

The self-satisfied smile fell from Esme's face as the words Isabella spoke hit home. She'd been so angry with Edward, so torn by the girl's tears, that she hadn't considered her actions, she just moved.

"Both of you…you argue over me like I'm some kind of toy, some prop for your pretty little lives, but neither of you, _neither__of__you_ ever asked me what I want." Isabella looked at the ground. Her focus swam as hot tears threatened, again, to fall. Ever since that night on the beach, over a year ago, she'd felt turned around and inside out, too raw for the world around her, and woefully unprepared for anything more.

The gods stood in silence, each of them contemplating the human in their midst. Her anger was powerful but fleeting, and each of them could see that she was on the verge of tears, yet none of them could bring themselves to comfort her.

"I told you this would happen." The nymph from earlier came gliding toward them, looking for all the world as though she were floating. Bella choked back a bitter laugh. For all she knew, the girl could, indeed, float.

Alice's wide, dark eyes took Bella in, and Bella found herself meeting the girl's gaze, searching in her eyes for some shred of hope, some glimmer of kindness. She didn't know if she could trust the girl in front of her, and wasn't sure what choice she had.

Alice reached out to Bella and took her wrist in her hand. She pressed her fingers to her palm and when she opened it, Bella saw that she was still clutching the crystal that Alice had given her earlier.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I broke-"

"It's nothing," Alice said, then plucked the crystal from her palm. "You don't need this anymore."

Bella nodded, though not sure why, and let her hand drop back to her side. Alice leaned in, smelling of lavender and fresh pine, and whispered in Bella's ear. "You're going to be just fine," she said. "You'll see."

But Bella didn't see. She couldn't find comfort in Alice's well-meant words, and the longer she stood there, bare feet on cold marble, the more she wanted to scream or cry or run away. If she ran to the front door – if she could find the front door – what would be on the other side? Were they floating in the clouds? Would there by an abyss? A mountain so high that she could never climb down? She shivered at the idea.

"Isabella?" Carlisle approached her with a soft hand and soft voice, but didn't touch her.

"You're right, Isabella. We've all been terribly selfish here. Tell me, what is it that you want?"

Bella didn't know. She wanted time to think, or sleep. She wanted, god, she wanted a sandwich and a coke and maybe her mother, except that her mother always seemed to have other things to do. She wanted to feel at peace, for a change. She wanted to feel Edward's arms around her and see his bright, open smile, and she wanted to go back to a time before any of this happened, back when she didn't know….

And then she realized what she wanted and she closed her eyes.

"I want to go home."

.

AN: This story was originally designed for a Twilight 25 series, and so the chapters were all designed to be roughly 1,000 words each. I know that's very short, and for that, I apologize. Incidentally, as you may have guessed, this story will be 25 chapters long. Thank you for reading.


	16. 16 Bound

**.**

**.**

**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 16 - Bound**

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"_I want to go home."_

.

The words reverberated off the marble and gilt. Carlisle sucked a soft breath and Edward didn't breathe at all. Esme formed a sad smile. It's what she thought would happen, what she fought for, but she knew there would be consequences. Edward has always been the moodiest – most troubled of them all. _He__ will __be__ more__ so ,__now,_ she thought.

Carlisle was the first to move. He reached for Bella's hand slowly, like he was taming a wild thing, and standing there, watching her, Esme thought the description is apt. She was a little wild – with courage enough to stand up to the gods, while being frightened enough to long for home, and familiar things. Esme bowed her head. She longed to comfort the girl, reach out to her, but it seemed her fight in the affair is over.

"Isabella? I'm sorry, that…may not be possible."

Then it was the girl's turn to gasp, and Edward's face animated with a look she had never seen on any god's face: hope.

Before anyone could speak, a giant interrupts them.

"Goddamn, Carlisle. I've got fourteen conflicts and two outright wars to oversee, and you call me home for what?"

He was tall, dark haired and dimpled, and his body was bulky and defined. He moved with lithe grace and a trace of mischief, as though he was really nothing more than a boy, and if it wasn't for the horrible lot he's drawn in life, Esme would believe it to be true.

The giant stopped and looked around, and then stared hard at Isabella.

"What the hell? Since when do we let humans in here? Damn. Do I miss out on everything?"

Carlisle was quick to interrupt.

"Emmett, this is Isabella. She has, ahm, she is bound to Edward."

Emmett whistled low and punched the stiff god in the shoulder. "Nice job there."

Then he looked over the girl again, and when he got to her wide, unblinking eyes, he paused. She was not, in fact, a nice job. She was a human amongst gods, and even he, a god who wrings the good out of every moment that he can, if only to offset the terrible things that he inspires, even he was brought short by her fear.

"It's okay," he said to her. "No one will hurt you here."

Isabella eyed his musculature and thought that maybe he was right. Maybe no one would hurt her.

Still. She wanted to go home.

Before she could respond, a tall, beautiful blonde woman moved into the room. She was beautiful. No, Bella thought, her mind correcting her on an instinctive level. She is _beauty._

"Rose?" The giant spoke, his soft voice belying his strength. "This is Edward's mate. Isabella."

"So why are we here?" She cast a bored look down to her fingernails, then tossed the shining gold mane over her shoulder.

Carlisle spoke.

"There seems to be some dispute about the binding. Edward was not entirely honest, and Isabella did not make an informed choice.

Edward hissed at his brother's words, but they were true. He had not been honest with Isabella, driving by an emotion he refused to inspect, he'd pressed the food on her, forcing her into an eternity of his…what? Love? Ardor? _Service?_

He was disgusted by himself, yet uncertain that he would change his actions if he had them to do over.

"So why are we here?" The blonde was bored and pacing around the hall.

"Because if she did not consent to the binding; it should not hold." Esme's voice was firm, fire and ice and strength.

"But she ate, right?" The giant spoke now, looking at his open palms as though weighing justice.

"Yes, she did." Edward this time. His voice, pitted against Esme's, could have been a sword. Bella thought it might have won, if their voices were physical things.

She took one step back, and then another. Before her, the gods argued and bickered over her future as though…as though she was nothing more than a pawn.

She remembered back in time, back to a moonlit beach and a sunlit man, how easy and perfect it had all seemed. He'd come to her, mysterious and warm, and she'd melted into him, giving him her heart and body, anything at all that he might want. When he left her, she'd felt desolate, and remembered her cold skin on hot days, wishing, wishing, to never feel so low again.

It struck her that she had what she'd wished for. One who would see her as a queen. Queen of the dead. A small, bitter laugh escaped her mouth, but the arguing creatures around her paid no heed.

_Stop it,_ she thought. Stop, stop, stop. "Stop it!"

She rushed forward to inject herself into their midst, into the conversation that was happening around her, about her, and without her.

Before she could make herself heard, Emmett, always the most animated of them, raised his arms in exclamation. He caught Bella across the shoulder and chin, and she flew back against the marble floor. A bruise began to bloom against her pale skin, and the snap of her wrist, as it caught beneath her, was deafening to them all.

Edward reached her first. He cradled her in his lap, small, wounded bird, and blew soft, warm breaths against her skin. He petted her face, his eyes scanning her all over, and when he found the small lump at the back of her head, he whispered, low and fierce, until it receded to nothing beneath his palm.

He lifted her arm, careful, so careful, of her damaged wrist. He wrapped his fingers around it and he held it close to his chest. He whispered and he blew and he did not notice the silence all around him. He did not notice the gods brought to pause by these small healing acts for his human. He noticed nothing other than his own fear until Isabella's pale eyelids began to flutter and she twisted herself further into his lap.

When she opened her eyes he exhaled. He stood with her still clutched into his arms, and then he set her down, holding her by the waist and shoulders until she was steady again on her feet.

He took two large steps back from her, so that he was standing among the others, and she eyed them all, wary.

"Carlisle?" Edward's voice was soft enough that his brother almost didn't hear him.

"I release her from her bond. Let her go."

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**AN:** This instead of review replies. I hope that's okay. Thank you, all of you, who have kept the faith with me, with this. I promise you, I am working as quickly as I can.


	17. 17 Bitter

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**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 17 - Bitter**

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"_I release her from her bond. Let her go."_

The halls echoed the collective gasp of all within. Emmett stared at Edward with disbelieving eyes. Carlisle met the eyes of his wife, and the two of them seemed to be having some private communication. Alice stared into the distance, and furrow between her eyes, and Rosalie offered the room a slight, heart-achingly beautiful smile.

Edward stared at the ground.

Isabella stared at him.

She held her wrist, the one that had been broken, in her hand and was rubbing the spot lightly.

When Edward dared to peek at her, his eyes were riveted to her hands…small things, like broken birds, fluttering, but not free. His voice was low when he spoke, still not meeting her eyes.

"What you said before, in the tunnel, you were right. Just because I fixed it, doesn't mean it's okay. Does it…you're not hurt?"

Bella tried to make sense of his words. She knew that they meant so many things – he was talking about her wrist, which had throbbed, but now felt fine. He was talking about more though, about his trickery and how he'd deceived her.

Just because he fixed it, didn't mean it was okay.

"It doesn't hurt," she said, her hand rubbing at her wrist once more before letting her arms fall to her sides.

Edward nodded, but didn't peek at her face.

Carlisle cleared his throat then, and came forward to Isabella.

"You're sure then…this is what you want?"

Bella nodded. She pictured her bedroom, her small apartment and the streets lined with magnolia trees. She thought of the collection on her dresser of glass flowers, a girlish hobby her mother had introduced to her. She thought of the way her mailbox would stick in the cold weather and how her old truck was always sweltering in the sun.

She thought of the sun.

"I want to go home."

"Very well."

Carlisle took her hand in his and peered into her eyes. She felt him then, looking into her heart, her brain. She wanted to know what he was looking for, and if he'd found it.

"Alice?" Carlisle beckoned the slight girl, then turned to Bella.

"Alice will see you home. It…it was a pleasure meeting you." He let go of her hand and patted her shoulder. She felt that she'd been dismissed by someone who was disappointed in her, but she couldn't make sense of the emotion.

The nymph took her hand and led her down the hall. None of the doors were open to her, and she wondered what might be inside of them. Things that would amaze and delight her? Or frighten her? She didn't know which she'd prefer.

"Alice?"

"Hmm?" The girl didn't spare a look at Bella, just steered her down the never-ending corridor.

Isabella foundered. It felt like everything was happening so quickly, and she couldn't get a hold over what she wanted to say, but there were words, choking her throat, clogging her brain. It was all going too fast.

Alice paused before a grand set of wooden doors. They were carved with pictures, similar to the doors that led to her bedroom in Edward's palace. Bella felt a pang, somewhere between her heart and her stomach. She would never see them again, never take the time to trace out their stories, never brush the raised ridges, feeling the contrast between cool gold and warm wood beneath the ridges of her fingertip. She missed them already.

"Come on now," Alice said. "It's best not to linger." With that, she drew Bella into a soft, tender hug. Bella laid her head against the smaller girl's shoulder and wished for more time.

"Shhh." Alice whispered the sound into Bella's ear, and when she opened her eyes, she was home. She was standing in the entry to her apartment. It looked and smelled exactly the same: boring brown carpet and wall painted apartment white. It had an unused air to it, that of something abandoned, but that was true before she'd left. She'd always been a ghost there.

Alice turned to her. "I'll be going now. Don't worry, Bella. You won't see any of us again."

"But what if I want-"

Alice shook her head, a sad smile on her face. "It wouldn't be fair, Bella. Not to anyone. You know that."

Again, Bella felt the sting of chastisement, but was unsure why. Yes, she'd made a choice to leave, but really, what other options were there? To be tricked into a life in hell? To be forced to be someone's bride, just because he'd taken a fancy to her?

And what about the other one? What about Jasper? When she closed her eyes, she could feel his warmth on her skin.

"Bella?"

She opened her eyes to see the small girl staring at her. "I understand, you still need to say goodbye, to him, to us. When you're ready, take this draught. When you wake, it will be as if we'd never existed."

She'd heard those words once before, on a cool beach with the soothing sound of the ocean, ringing in her ears. She'd felt it in her bones, in her blood, the rhythmic pulse of the earth itself. She'd felt primal and exotic on that beach. Fearless. What had happened?

Edward had taken her hand in his, and he'd touched her so soft, so gentle. He'd promised her a kingdom…hadn't he?

It was a bitter taste, to twice have held the favor of a god, and to twice know his absence.

Had she wanted to be a queen? Or had she only wanted to be loved? What was the difference? Fealty or affection?

Looking down at the small silver vial in her palm, Isabella was tempted to uncork it and drink it down that moment. The disappointment that stung her heart, the fleeting moments of feeling wanted and adored, all of it, she wanted to forget.

Bella opened her mouth, tried to say something to the girl, but in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

In her wake though, soft, whispered words echoed through Isabella's home. "Sometimes stars fall down, Bella. And yet, they still shine."

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**AN:** I'll try to update again tomorrow, but no promises. If not, don't look for anything until Monday or Tuesday. I'm brewing my first batch of beer this weekend, and getting a jump on my holiday baking. Thank you for reading!


	18. 18 Obsession

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**And Yet They Shine**

**Obsession**

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Bella awoke from a deep and troubled sleep. As she stretched against the cool sheets of her bed, her mind cast about for what was missing, what was off. The smell of her pillow was as it should be – cool, sweet from her shampoo, with a lingering scent that was hers and hers alone.

She twisted and watched motes of dust dance on the thin sunlight coming through her blinds.

Sunlight.

In a moment she remembered all that had passed. She sat up in a panic – her hand reaching for her nightstand before the thought was fully formed.

Edward.

Jasper.

She clutched the small silver vial, holding it close to her heart.

Forget.

With one swallow, she could forget it all.

Bella studied the vial. Silver casing held a small glass tube and silver liquid swirled within it. As Bella watched, the liquid transformed – it took shape as this and then that, the shape of a flower, the shape of a seashell. At one point, it looked like stars shining in the sky, or maybe it was sand shimmering on a beach. Bella was transfixed.

"_It will be as if we'd never existed."_

_Was_ that what she wanted?

Bella set the vial aside and rose to dress. The shower she took was long and hot, but she didn't notice it. Standing under the spray, her mind was trapped by the past, a hostage to the future.

Her mother had left when she was a baby. Bella's memories of the woman were nothing more than postcards received near her birthday, and the occasional Christmas gift that arrived in March.

She knew her father loved her, in his own, private way. He'd cared for her, fed her, clothed her, housed her, but he'd never once made it to an open house or back to school night. He never inquired further than "how was school?" and "aren't you going out?" How to explain that she preferred the company of her books to the company of the pretty and petty, terrifyingly normal people at her school?

When he'd been killed in the line of duty during her freshman year of college, Bella had felt untethered. While her father's love hadn't been as rich as she'd needed, she knew, without question, that it was there. She knew that if she was in trouble, he would come. Who would come for her now?

Not long after his death, she began spending her evenings at the beach. At first, it was a way to feel connected to his memory. As child, he'd taken her out on the ocean often to fish. But then it became something more, something soothing. When she felt lost and faceless, the stars above gave her hope. They made her feel connected to something bigger than herself.

Without her father, she often felt like a childless mother: yearning to care for someone, but having no one who needed gentle ways.

Instead, she bestowed her graces onto her friends. She listened for hours as Jessica dissected her relationship with Mike. Was it true love? Was he the one? What did he mean when he said she was funny?

Angela was easier and harder. It was hard for her to accept the kindness of another, and so she and Bella played a game of fair: If Bella brought her coffee in the morning, Angela brought Bella tea in the afternoon. The score sheet always read zero-zero.

It was then that she realized it wouldn't have been any better with Edward. What could she possibly give him? He had the very world.

She dressed and dried her hair and left her apartment. She stopped and bought coffee for Angela and set up a late lunch with Jessica. If they asked, she'd tell them that she was called away at the last minute, a distant ill relative who needed her help for a few days.

She pretended not to notice when they didn't ask.

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That evening she wandered to the beach. One thousand steps down, and with each one, a new, confusing emotion hit her heart. When she reached the bottom, she cast about, but there was nothing, no one, there for her. No burning fire, no golden man dripping with honeyed eyes and honeyed skin. No dark god making her shiver with his smiles, and tremble with his frown. Nothing.

She lay on the sand, watching the moon shine on the waves, watching the stars, looking for…something. With the crash of a wave, it hit her: She would never see him, see any of them again.

The howl of pain, of frustration that loosed from her lungs was lost among the sounds of the waves. She was such a fool!

She'd been given a wish, given beauty and affection, not just once, but twice, and what had she done with it all? She'd tossed it all away in a moment of panic.

Could she have stayed with Edward, there beneath the earth? Could she have learned to rule by his side, perhaps brought some tenderness to the shades that filled his halls? Perhaps.

But now, she would never know.

In the days and weeks that followed, she spent each evening down by the water, first with her bare feet warm in the sand, then bundled in sweaters, and finally shivering until the dawn, wishing and wishing for what she'd lost.

As the weather turned cold, it was more than she could bear. The obsession, the constancy of him in her thoughts, to the full exclusion of the other brought her to a halt. She no longer went to classes. She no longer brought Angela cups of coffee or listened as Jessica talked at her about every little thing.

Instead, she spent her hours either lying in her bed, wishing for dreams, or lying on the beach, wishing for him.

It wasn't until Angela came to her house, eyes filled with unspoken worry, on the pretense of returning a borrowed book that Bella realized what had become of her.

That evening in bed, she fingered the silver vial, the potion of disregard. She searched her own heart and felt the stabbing pains, the pain of loss and grief – not only for that lost potential life, but for her own lost potential – for her current life. Was she any different from a shade?

She flicked the vial open. A drop of silver liquid balanced on the rim, and she reached for it with her tongue. The flavor was sweet, overwhelming. It tasted like flowers smelled – very sweet and full of colors, and as she consumed drop after drop, her worries and fears began to melt away. For a moment, she forgot where she was, why she was there.

That moment was all that was needed. There was a flash behind her eyes, a tall man with dark hair and bright, beautiful green eyes. He'd held her hand, hadn't he? They'd gone somewhere together once, right? Hadn't he…hadn't he kissed her?

Her body tingled with the remembrance of lips, like warm velvet, brushing against her own.

The vial fell from her hand and rolled under the bed, three small drops still hidden within.

Isabella sank back onto her pillow and fell into a deep, and trouble-less sleep.

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Thank you for reading.


	19. 19 Morose

**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 19: Morose**

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In the world below the world above, a sullen god stared at the crystal before him. When Alice had pressed it into his hand, he'd almost thrown it in anger. Frustration. He'd come close, so close, to tasting heaven. Holding Isabella in his arms, he had known peace, contentment, for the first time in his ageless existence.

Without her, he was bereft. He sat on his throne, morose and somber, listening to the shades prattle about this and that until finally, while one shade was in the middle of his plea, Edward rose, dropped his crown on the red velvet seat of his throne, and wandered away.

He took the gardens first, but their ever-shining night called her to his mind. Holding her beneath a golden apple tree, tasting the perfect honey of her mouth, her breath breathing life into him, for the first time. His fingers tingled at the memory of her skin, warm and soft, and like nothing he had ever felt before. Textiles, silk and velvet, could not compare.

Late that evening, he found himself, as he always did, in her chambers. He laid his head upon her pillow that he might breathe in her scent, remember for a moment what it felt like, to have her as his own. From time to time, he would read her books, or touch his fingertips to her possessions. He had taken such care to find the things that she'd loved, culling the images from her mind and setting his servants to fulfill the needs she didn't even know she had. Now that she was gone, there was no one to love the objects she'd left behind. Edward felt a strange kinship with her discarded belongings.

Lying on Isabella's bed, Edward turned the crystal over and over in his hands. It glimmered here and there, milky swirls in the pale blue light emitted by the crystal. With a sigh that bordered on a sob, he gave in and stared into the heart of the crystal. He didn't know what vision it would bring. He had hope, but it was a small thing in the face of his fears, and he clung to it so tightly he feared it would break.

As the images began to clear, Edward gasped and sat upright. It was Isabella, though not as he'd ever seen her before. She was broken, this girl, crying silent tears as she poked her tongue against the vial, taking the silvery drop into her downturned mouth.

She closed her eyes – so full of despair! – and tipped her head and the vial back at once.

The image overwhelmed him.

He wanted her happiness, her yearned for it. Was it so wrong of him to hope that she would find it with him? He would have given her anything, everything. Every single thing she'd ever wanted would be set before her. If she had only let him.

Instead, he saw her despair, her tears, as she drank down her memories of him. As she tried to forget him.

Was it that awful, being with him? He knew himself to be moody and given to meloncholy, that was no secret to anyone. But had he been so horrible that she wanted to drive him from her mind? That she could allow him no perch, not even amidst her memories?

The proof of it lay before him and he understood. With her, he had felt light and hopeful. He had felt good things, kind things, for what seemed like the first time in his life. Without her, he'd returned to the empty life he'd known before: he drifted and did his duty, and found joy in nothing at all.

He hope that he had clung to failed and he felt the crystal splinter and then turn to dust in his hand.

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Edward stayed in her rooms, though it was almost unbearable to do so. More unbearable was watching the world move forward. Time was ever marching and Edward couldn't stand it. Could not stand to see the humans, their disregard for sunlight, moonlight, their unseeing, arrogant assumption that one season would follow the next and the callousness of the buds as the bloomed on the branch. He could not bear to hear the pleas of the shades, who wanted only one more day, just one more, with the objects of their affection. Didn't they understand how much they'd already had?

The man before him had spent thirty-five years surrounded by the love of a woman who'd made him feel nineteen again, every single day of his life. Didn't he understand the embarassment of riches that he'd already experienced? And he dared ask the dark god for more?

And the woman before him, who'd had only three years with her love, before illness swept her from his arms. It was so much more than Edward would ever have. He could find no sympathy for the wretches before him.

The walls trembled as Edward's anger rose, reaching a fever pitch that no one could quell. His servants plead with him until he shut them out and turned them away, wanting nothing but to live in the memory of her.

Yet even that was not enough. For each time that he recalled her smile, he remembered too, the tears in her eyes. She hadn't loved him, hadn't wanted him. She wanted not even his memory. Although he understood his duty, it failed to bring him purpose.

Only she could do that for him.

As Jasper pulled the sun toward the water, ending another human day, Edward understood only one thing. He did not wish to exist in a world that did not hold her smile. While it would pain him, so much, to watch her smile for another man, it would be better to see her smile, than not to see her at all.

And so he left his post, donning the dark suit and tie that he always wore when he walked the earth, and searched out Isabella. He began where he'd begun at first, on the sandy beach where he had first seen her face.

When he arrived, there was a small girl in the distance, and Edward's heart stumbled for a moment, thinking it might be her.

It was not. Instead, Alice of the Fates came toward him. Her large, dark eyes were pleading with him and he knew what she'd say before the words left her mouth.

"You have to go back, Edward. The world needs you."

The dark god shook his head, not wishing to waste even a moment in his need to see his girl again.

"You don't understand. They will be lost without you."

Lost? Did she have any idea how he felt? To have been held in the hands of heaven, only to be expelled?

"They cannot let go without you. It is your duty!" The small girl shrieked at him, even while her heart panged for his loss.

Edward shrugged and began to climb the thousand steps that he hoped would lead him home.

Home.

That is what she was to him. It didn't matter that he wasn't that for her. Nothing mattered, really, but seeing her face again.

"Edward!"

The small girl caught up to him. She was ageless, appearing to be a wizened crone one moment and a childish waif the next. He watched the breeze sift through her dark hair. He raised his eyebrows and she pressed a slip of paper into his palm.

The writing was small and feminine, black in on white paper:

_Three seeds swallowed_

_Three drops undrunk_

_Predict the course that follows_

_From what remains undone_

When Edward looked up, she was gone.

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I think this will be done within the next two weeks. Thank you to everyone who's reading.


	20. 20 Apathy

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**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 20: Apathy**

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Dim sunlight filtered through white curtains, pulling Bella up from a death-like sleep. She was disoriented. Her limbs were heavy against the warm sheets, and she wondered for a moment where she was, before the familiar sound of her coffee maker brought her back to herself.

She'd dreamed last night, she was sure of it. Her mind teased her with glimpsed images so rich and full that they was more like a memory, except that they weren't. It was unreal, and the more alert she became, the more quickly the dreams fled from her mind, until she couldn't remember if she'd dreamed anything at all.

She rose from her bed and padded to the kitchen, pausing the coffee machine just long enough to steal half of a cup. It was strong and dark, the fluid bitter on her tongue, and she relished the flavor, the scald of the liquid down her throat.

In the shower, the hot water scalded against her skin, and she emerged, flushed and wet, her body glowing from the heat. Her muscles were sore though, for the life of her, she couldn't remember what she might have done to strain them.

In the end she washed down to ibuprofen with a second cup of coffee and headed for the door. She'd promised to meet Ang and Jess for brunch, and she didn't want to be late.

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"So then he said he'd call me after work, and I so I bought stuff for dinner, you know, thinking I would invite him over, but he never called. I swear to god, Michael Newton had better just forget he ever knew me. I am _not_ forgiving him this time."

Bella half listened to Jessica as she ticked off Mike's latest offenses and shook her head. Jessica had chased Mike for almost a year, and when she finally got him, all she did was pick him apart.

"Maybe he just fell asleep, or maybe something came up?" Ever-practical Angela tried to find the right words to soothe her friend's misery, but Bella knew it was a lost cause. Jessica _liked_ the drama. She _wanted_ to be angry so that they could kiss and make up. She…needed it.

For a moment, Bella felt a cynical, bitter edge seep into her thoughts. _Lucky bitch doesn't know how good she has it._

Bella reeled back from the thought, surprised by her own cruelty. But rather than dig too deep, she discarded the thought and hailed the waiter for a second mimosa. Then she smiled and laughed and enjoyed the morning with her two friends, encouraging them to tell her more about their beaus. (Angela had had two very nice dates with a man named Ben who worked in her office. Bella and Jess made all of the appropriate noises as she recounted each detail.)

When it was time, they split the check three ways and went about their days. Bella tended to her home, purchased groceries and prepared a meal, and when evening came and there was nothing more to do, she allowed her thoughts to drift away from her. When she came back to herself, she couldn't honestly remember what she'd done with the last two hours.

And so life went on.

Bella went to school and talked with friends and if her inner voice was occasionally vicious, well, wasn't she entitled to be a little bitter?

When she slept at night, her dreams ran deep. They were filled with people and places that she couldn't name, the pounding of the ocean, the clouds in the sky. There was a golden apple tree, wasn't there? And something lovely came from that place.

But there were frightening things, too. Ghosts danced behind her eyes, and horrible images – skeletons and monsters - caused her to toss and turn, tangling the sheets around her limbs until she felt pinned to the bed, unable to escape.

Morning became Bella's least favorite time of day. She could never, ever remember her dreams, but awoke with the emotional aftermath of them, nonetheless. Sometimes she felt lost, and she searched herself, despair in her heart, for what she might have forgotten. Other mornings she was terrified, and woke with a scream still on her tongue, trapped in a web of sheets and blankets, sweat pouring from her skin.

The last way, though, that was her favorite…and the one she most dreaded. Some mornings she awoke from a dream that she couldn't remember, but she knew that she'd been happy. So deeply happy, so filled with joy that the pain upon waking and realizing that it was, in fact, just a dream, and the sense of loss, deep and aching, filled her limbs and her thoughts and her heart left her inconsolable for the rest of the day. Those mornings she wept in the shower, silent tears that didn't soothe the ache inside of her, for a loss she couldn't name.

As Bella moved through her life, she wondered at her purpose. She longed for something she couldn't name, and her anger at not having it turned in upon itself, until she became apathetic. Going through the motions. Caring about nothing more than putting another day behind her.

By late spring, nothing was better. Bella laid in her bed, tossing and turning in a fitful sleep.

There was a faceless man, and she found herself pleading with him for something she couldn't name. He waited on her, his mood shifting from kind to frustrated to angry and cruel, and try as she might, she couldn't voice the words that would signal peace for them both.

He turned and left her, and she cried after him, knowing that he was the only one who could bring her happiness, contentment. When she woke, hot tears fell from her eyes, and she searched again for the source of her pain, only to find nothing there.

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Compulsion is a strange thing. It takes you by the hand and leads you to where it wants you to go, and you, you will discard everything you know to be good and right and true as you follow it.

That was how Isabella found herself on the beach one cool evening in June. She sat with her toes in the sand, the hood of her sweatshirt pull up around her face, and cast her eyes upon the ocean waves. They pounded against the shore, whitecaps frothing within inches of her toes, and she wiggled her toes in greeting.

The fading sunlight sparkled on the water, and she watched as the sun faded, faded, and finally dipped down beneath the sea. The last glowing moment of light danced green and gold and red on the water, and Isabella watched it, a growing certainty waking within her, anchoring itself deeper with each breath she took. She didn't know what it meant, but she knew, without question, that it was a piece of a puzzle she had to solve, if she was ever to find happiness again.

She rose and took the steps sometimes two at a time, and when she stood upon the bluff overlooking the ocean, she suddenly saw it everywhere.

Spring was all around her and everything, everywhere she looked, was green. There were dark green leaves on trees, and bright green grass underfoot. Flowers bloomed and nestled against one another, bolstered by pale green stems that fed them life. All around her the world had turned, and as she looked at it all, the voice in her head, her heart, grew more and more certain:

_He has green eyes._

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I finished the outline of the final five chapters today. Thank you so much for reading.


	21. 21 Taut

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**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 21: Taut**

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_He had green eyes._

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Bella didn't know what it meant, but once the thought took hold, she couldn't let it go. And it wasn't a thought, it was…it was a _fact._

He had green eyes.

The more she thought about it, the clearer it became in her mind, until she could see them, his eyes, dark green and filled with anger, or light and filled with joy. Melancholy turned them olive green, and when he was truly happy, they were the shade of fresh-cut grass in the summer - dark and bright, all at once.

Try as she might, she couldn't see the rest of him. Was he handsome? Did it even matter what the rest of him looked like? Who wouldn't yearn for a smile from those eyes?

Isabella completed her last exams for the year and settled in to solve the mystery of this man. She sought sleep, not for escape, but because she knew that the key to this secret lay deep within her dreams, and she was determined to find it.

Outside, in the world, she searched for him everywhere. She sought the eyes of every man that she passed on the street, peering into them, looking for the green that would put her at ease. Once there was a man, a boy, really, who served her coffee. The snap of color in his eyes was close, and for a moment, her thoughts stuttered. But then she blinked and she knew that this boy wasn't _him._ And _he_ was who she needed.

Perhaps if it was only the green eyes, the certainty of them, Isabella could have moved on. Perhaps she could have given up, chalked it up to déjà vu, or something equally strange and unexplainable.

But, it wasn't just the eyes. It was…everything.

The magnolias that bloomed and rained down onto her street, they made her think of her small hands in a man's larger ones. The library entrance with its Grecian columns scaled with ivy. It was familiar to her in a way that was like a memory, but not of those columns. Some other columns.

The memory-dreams tormented her. She felt like she was missing something, something huge, but couldn't see what it was.

And each evening, the water called her near. Sitting there on the sand, watching the sun spin itself down to the water, she could close her eyes and listen to the heartbeat of the earth itself, the waves pounding their relentless rhythm onto the shore. She inhaled the heady scent of salt and sand, now and then, something on the breeze made her heart and stomach clench, and she knew that that too, was him. Everything was always about him.

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Standing in line at the grocery store, Isabella's attention was drawn to the woman who stood in line before her. She was small and looked youthful, maybe Bella's age or younger, but there was something about her that made Bella think she was an old soul.

The woman had short dark hair that fell around her face in soft waves, and her clothing was light and gauzy, pretty. Bella searched within herself, but couldn't think of where she'd seen the woman before.

"I'm so sorry, I don't usually do this, but I have the strangest feeling that I know you."

The girl turned, and in a moment, Bella saw _his_ face. He was, oh, gods, he was so handsome. Her heart and stomach clutched up as her mind's eye looked him over. He was tall, so tall. Wavy hair that was brown and red and gold and he was grinning at someone, at her, she thought, with a canted smile that tilted her world.

"I don't think so," the woman said, and feeling of déjà vu washed over her again.

Bella realized she was staring and found her voice.

"We haven't met before? You're sure?"

The woman placed her hand on Isabella's arm, and the sound of the ocean filled her ears. "Not in this world," she whispered, and then walked away.

Bella felt the ground slip out from under her before everything went black.

.

When she awoke, Bella stared up into the concerned eyes of the people around her. There was a woman with caramel colored hair and kind eyes, and Bella wanted to hug her. She knew that the woman would smell of home. Of childhood happiness, of being cared for.

"You okay, honey?" Her voice was like a song, a pretty little lilt to it. Oh, gods, what was going on? Was she losing her damned mind?

"I just…I'm sorry. I'm fine."

The woman held out her hand and helped Bella up. She felt comfort, such comfort, coming from the woman's touch. Bella knew she'd felt that before, and recently.

She looked down and around. Her grocery basket was filled with pomegranates, and while she'd never tried the fruit before, she knew exactly what it would taste like, sweet and sour and bitter against her tongue.

Her mind raced and her skin felt too tight, taut against her bones as she tried to make sense of the flood of images in her mind.

There was a place, she'd gone…underneath. With him. He'd held her close and there was a tortoise shell and the waters were dark and a dog, oh, the biggest dog she'd ever seen and he'd bowed his head at her like she was his mistress. There were rivers, too, and people but they weren't people, they were lost and some of them damned and she wanted to help them but mostly she just wanted him.

His name danced on the back of her tongue, a tickle at the base of her skull. He was out there, he was…waiting. He needed her; she knew it. Knew it like she knew that all of the things that she thought were dreams were real. That the monsters and terrors and the man, _her_ man, all of it was real.

"I have to go," she said, and struggled out of the hands that held her. "I have to – he's waiting!" The woman with the kind eyes let go of her hold, and Bella jerked free. She ran to her car and drove to the ocean, ignoring every traffic law that she'd ever known. He was waiting!

Running across the bluff, she loosed the thin scarf that clung to her neck. It was constraining and confining and she needed…she needed to be free of everything so that she could find him. It was all that mattered as her feet flew across the soft grasses and down the smooth steps to the sandy beach below.

She searched the beach up and down, eyes wide and frantic. Her hair danced with the wind and she ignored the cries of the gulls above, seeking only his face, a face she knew was real. She knew it.

As she raced up and down the beach finding nothing and no one, her mind began to panic. Maybe she was crazy. Maybe she was slipping into delusion so deep that she had made up a person, an entire world that wasn't real.

Maybe.

She sat down on the shore, watching the water flirt with the sand in the pale moonlight. There was a sliver of a moon above, and a thin cloud cover hid the stars from her sight. She closed her eyes and leaned back on her hands, letting the sound and smell of the ocean wash over her.

She had been here once before, desperate and bewildered by something out of her control. She had sought answers from a beautiful man who had broken her heart, a man warm like the sunshine, with golden skin and hair and eyes.

The memories that had hazed grew more clear with each wave that crashed against the shore.

She'd been heartbroken and returned to the ocean, to this very beach, because the golden one had promised her…something. Something about a wish. And when she'd arrived, there was nothing, but then she'd turned and –

Isabella rose from the sand, keeping her eyes on the water before her. There was excitement, anticipating, climbing up her spine and resting beneath her breast, making her heart beat hard.

Her breath trembled as she turned and looked toward the steps.

Standing against the banister, one foot resting on the bottom step, was the man she'd seen every night in her dreams. He wore a suit and his shoes held a shine despite the dust of the sand. He was tall and slim, with broad shoulders and thick, wayward hair that stood in every direction at once. It glinted bronze in the moonlight and her fingertips remembered that it was very, very soft. He drank her in with his eyes and she could see them burning, bright green.

Him.

_Edward._

"I've been looking for you," she said. She held out her hand. Her heart punched a staccato beat inside of her chest. Her mouth did not smile. Still, she felt compelled to be near him. She took a single step forward.

.

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Writing as quickly as I can. Thank you for reading. Your kind words this week have meant the world to me.


	22. 22 Collide

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**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 22: Collide**

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"_I've been looking for you," she said. She held out her hand. Her heart punched a staccato beat inside of her chest. Her mouth did not smile. Still, she felt compelled to be near him. She took a single step forward._

"I've always been here," he said, but did not move.

Isabella nodded her head. "I know. I just…forgot."

"You shouldn't have remembered."

Isabella bowed her head and her hand hung limp at her side. He didn't want her after all. He hadn't wanted her to remember.

"I don't understand," she said, speaking to the ground. "I thought you wanted this."

Edward was incredulous. He'd wanted her, and barring that, he'd wanted her happiness. It seemed as though neither was an option. The scent of her tears stung his nose, and he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.

He approached her with caution; she was such a wild thing in his mind that he was afraid that she would start and flee.

"Isabella?" He pressed her chin until she was forced to look at him. He saw the hurt and confusion in her eyes. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not for her.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

His fingers were gentle on her skin as he wiped the tears from her face. She blushed, color rising fast beneath her skin, making her humanity all the more apparent to him. Her hair blew wild in the wind, and when she closed her eyes, tears streaked down her face, leaving wet trails against fair skin in their wake.

He had to have been insane to think that she would give up life, her life, for him. Was he a monster in her eyes? He had to be.

Standing against the sea, with the sun setting against her back, Isabella was a picture of beauty and innocence. She was a picture of everything he'd ever wanted, and the glimpses that he'd had into her mind, her heart, only solidified that idea. He could never want for more than her, and he could never settle for less.

He rested his fingers against her chin.

"Isabella?" Her name was whisper on his lips.

She squeezed her eyes tight and he watched her chin quaver as she fought herself not to cry in front of him. He couldn't stand it one minute more.

His mind was tentative as it reached out toward her. He had to know what she was thinking, and he was so afraid of what he would find.

Isabella basked for a moment in his touch. It was gentle and soothing and she pretended to herself that he cared for her. That he wanted her. As his fingertips ghosted across her face, she pressed forward, pushing her head into his large hand. She remembered that evening under the apple tree, how he'd held her so tenderly, and yet she could feel his need for her in the shaking of his limbs. She remembered the way he'd smiled at her, the pure joy in his eyes and how she'd never seen anyone, man or woman, more beautiful than he was at that moment. She remembered feeling safe with him, and the feeling that he needed her, and that she wanted that, to be needed. By him.

She remembered.

When she heard him gasp, her eyes flew to his. They were green, bright green and the moon's light danced on his skin.

"Isabella, you-"

"I love you," she said, tears falling from her eyes, as she stared into his. "I – I'm sorry."

She moved to look down but he wouldn't let her. His hand held her face in place and he searched her eyes. He stared, the shock on his face a shadow of what was in his mind.

She loved him. He'd seen it in her mind, all of her kind thoughts of him, her desire, but more than that, he saw it there, in her eyes. They were luminous and pitch black in the dark, but he saw it – her love, and her…her pain at the thought that he didn't want her.

"Never," he whispered. "Never again doubt my love for you."

He lowered himself as she rose toward him, her fingers reaching for his collar as his arms wrapped around her slim frame. It was a collision, a tempest, as their mouths met and their emotions, all of their love and longing, all of their anger and hurt, came pouring out into a single kiss.

Isabella opened her mouth to him, as she had already opened her heart. She felt his kiss everywhere – fierce and fervent, in her heart and in her spine, shooting down to her toes, in her breasts as she pressed herself against him and lower still.

He picked her up and she wrapped herself around him, and then he lowered them down onto the sand. He held her so close she thought she couldn't breathe but she didn't care. He loved her. He wanted her. When the realization hit her again, she smiled against his mouth, and giggled and then laughed, throwing her head back. Edward laughed too, and the sound was like music, until they both lay on the sand, laughing and clinging to one another as joy overtook them both.

As their laughter died, their smiles did not. They lay on their sides, the sand a rough pillow against their skin looking into one another's eyes.

"You love me," she said, her mouth stretching further, showing of pretty white teeth.

"You love me," he answered, his fingertip tracing the curve of her cheek.

"Forever," she said, and pressed herself closer. Forever was…something she couldn't conceive of. Not his kind of forever. Not the forever that takes more than a school year or a long line or even eighty years of marriage to someone who made her truly happy. Edward's forever was _real._

And she couldn't imagine wanting anything more.

"Come on," he said, rising and pulling her easily up with him. "I need to take you home."

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The three prompts left for this are languid, lithe and red. I saved the fun stuff for last.

Thank you so much for reading.


	23. 23 Languid

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**And Yet They Shine**

**Chapter 23: Languid**

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"_Come on," he said, rising and pulling her easily up with him. "I need to take you home."_

Edward picked her up and she was a feather in his arms. He closed his eyes and held her close, breathing in the perfume of her hair. She smelled as she had that first night – of frustration and want, of the ocean and flowers.

When he opened his eyes, they were in his bedroom, in his palace. Setting Isabella down, he held her until she steadied on her feet, and took a moment to look around. He watched as she eyed his things – mementos from centuries of life lined his walls. He looked at his bookshelves and imagined Isabella's books beside them. It made something inside of him glow, warm and full.

"This is my chamber," he said, breaking the silence. "This is where you would – I mean, would you…would you stay here with me?"

"I thought you don't sleep," she said.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "But I would," his voice cut out as he swallowed. Nervousness was not an emotion he was acquainted with, but he recognized it nonetheless. "I would like to lay with you, at night."

As he said the words, he found he couldn't meet her gaze.

She reached for his hand, tentative, fluttering fingertips against his own. "You would watch over me then, while I sleep?" Her smile was shy as she sought his eyes.

He nodded, embarrassed by his need to be with her, always.

"I would like that," she said. She took his hand in her fingers, and pulled him toward the bed. It was ornate and beautiful, made to look like a gilded swan. The bedding looked soft and downy, with white sheets standing in contrast to the gilt of the frame.

Edward fought with himself for control. His heart, which didn't need to beat, pounded in his chest nonetheless. He wanted to push her down into those blankets, push her down and cover her body with his own, consume her so that she would always be with him, inside of him.

Instead, he followed with slow steps, pushing away his want, until he could be only hers. Be only what she needed. Nothing less, and nothing more.

She approached the bed and sat on the edge, giggling when she tipped over the side and onto the fluffy linens. Her hand grasped tighter to Edward's and she pulled him down with her.

He laughed as he fell, nervousness gone. She wanted him with her, that much was clear, and that was all that mattered.

Isabella turned to her side to face him, her god. She studied the panes of his face, taking them in with her fingers, feeling the heat from his skin through every touch. She traced down to his neck and unlaced his tie, sitting up on her knees to thieve it away. As she unbuttoned the first buttons at his collar, her fingers slipped inside, continuing their languid exploration of his pale skin.

When his breath stuttered, she paused, concerned. She looked into his eyes and saw the storm she'd seen so many times before, only now she understood it. She reached for his hand and kissed his fingertips before placing them against her collarbones, and then dragging them down, toward her heart.

"I'm yours," she whispered, her breath catching the air around them.

She watched the small smile as it formed on his lips, then vanished as he leaned in to kiss her. His. His for the taking, his for the tasting, the touching, loving. His.

His hands were gentle as they played across her skin. He listened for each caught breath, each heart flutter, each gasped moan and used them for his guide. When he had finally removed all of her clothes and she lay before him, naked, he exalted in her beauty, in her trust and her faith in him, at allowing him to see her so.

"Your turn," she said, fingertips flying at his buttons, pushing the starched white shirt off of his skin. Her voice was low and trembling, and he discarded his clothing with haste, eager to feel her soft skin against his own.

It was a warm heaven, there in her arms, and he wondered that anything, anyone could be so perfect, so perfectly made for him.

"Isabella," he whispered and bent to taste the skin at her neck, her delicate human pulse flitting against his tongue. He nipped at the crook of her neck and scraped his teeth along her collarbones, all the while marveling at how each movement found her pulling him closer, clutching him ever more tightly to herself.

When his tongue stroked against the tip of her breast, her whispered 'yes' was a hiss and a plea. She parted her legs and he nestled one knee between them, continuing his explorations while she threaded her fingers through his hair, pushing his head to her breast.

"Edward." She was writhing and panting beneath him, her body seeking friction as his hands traced up and down her leg, across her side, up to her breast before burying itself in her hair.

"Patience, little pretty one."

While his body craved a union, some other part of him was enjoying her need for him, enjoyed that he did this for her. To her.

His fingers explored with leisure, taking in all of her soft spots, but when he reached the secret place, where her flesh was soft and warm and wet, his patience, his very mind failed, and he became a being made of want.

Desire lit within him, until he covered her body with his, his mouth seeking hers, taking her hot breath and slick tongue and giving back his own in return. _That_ was right. That was everything he had ever hoped for, ever dreamed of, and so much more.

"Please," she whispered, arching herself up against him. "I want…"

"I know," he answered, because he wanted it too.

Isabella dug her fingers into his side, then into his shoulders. There were rough scratches on his skin that healed the moment they appeared. He was indestructible, and yet he felt fragile and torn asunder by his need for this girl.

Arching again, Isabella took the lead. She squirmed beneath him until their bodies were aligned. She shifted against him, moaning at the contact against the part of her that needed him most. His breath caught at the sensation, hot and wet and soft and he flicked his hips once more, lost in the sensation.

Isabella squirmed again, wrapping her legs around his, her feet on the backs of his calves, pushing up to reach him.

"Edward," she cried. "I—oh!"

He stilled her hips with his hand and pushed inside of her, slow and gentle and easy, when all he wanted was to push and pin and stroke. _Take._

Caught in the symphony of her breath and heartbeat, Edward guided himself forward again, resting his arms beneath her shoulders, cupping her to him until they became one, skin to skin, tender and rough, each of them clinging to the other, trying to get further, get deeper inside.

"Yes," she whispered, chanted. "Yes, yes yes Edward yes yes please."

He answered with his own prayer, a litany of please and baby and gods and yes.

Their bodies worked in concert, taking and yielding, pulling and giving, straining toward one another until each of them was consumed.

When it was over, they lay as ashes on the bed, bringing one another to life again with gentle whispers and soft kisses.

If Edward had been afraid of hurting her, he needn't have been for long. Isabella lay beneath him, her smile lighting a glow that suffused her skin and telegraphed her happiness. Her eyes danced as he took her in, fingers ever seeking, even in his sated condition. Because, how sated could he be? Would he ever get enough of her?

No. Not in a million lifetimes. Not in all of forever.

"You love me," she whispered, and leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"And you love me," he answered back. His smile reached his eyes, and lit them up until Isabella was lost in a world of green.

"Forever?" she asked.

"Forever."

As she closed her eyes and fell into dreams, Edward thought that he could not want for more than what he had there in his arms: everything.

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AN: Two chapters left. Thank you so much for reading.


	24. 24: Lithe

unbeta'd

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**And Yet They Shine**

**Lithe**

**.**

**.**

Bella was slow to wake. Her mind was caught between dreams and not dreams, where she was wanted and loved, where she was cocooned in warmth. Where his green eyes played across her body, making her feel sexy and lithe and wanton.

"Pretty Isabella," he whispered, his breath tickling her neck and ear.

She stretched, eyes still closed, and felt the delicious pull of her muscles, sore from a use that left her flushed. Smiling, she turned her face toward him, and accepted his mouth on hers, eyes still closed, coming more and more awake with each pass of his lips.

Her hand reached toward his face and caught it, and it was then – and only then – that she opened her eyes.

"She wakes," he whispered against her mouth, and kissed her again at her responding "mmmm."

Watching his face, she kissed the corner of his mouth, the dimple there deepening as his smile grew.

"You love me," she whispered.

"And you love me."

How brightly shines the smile of a god? Brighter than every star, in every sky.

His fingers played against her pale skin. They raised gooseflesh in their wake. She pushed his hand against her stomach, pressing it down, guiding it to the place where she was still tender. Her hips arched toward him and she felt his quick breath against her neck.

"Isabella."

Her eyes widened as she thought of all the lovely things he could do with his hands. His mouth licked at her neck and she closed her eyes and smiled.

He kissed his way down to her belly, and as she threaded her fingers through his hair, her stomach growled.

Edward laughed and looked up at her. "Sounds like someone's hungry."

Bella nodded her head, realizing it had been at least a day since she'd eaten anything.

Grinning and nipping at her ear, Edward stood and then pulled her from the bed. "Come on, little one. There's a bath for you in the next room."

She flushed for a moment at her nudity, but when she saw the way Edward looked at her, fierce, feral and possessive, she flushed for different reasons altogether.

"You'll have to stop thinking these things, or we'll never get you fed," he said.

"Are you…?" Bella paused confused for a moment. "I couldn't feel you in my head."

"I don't always have to read your mind to know what you're thinking. That blush is going to be the death of me."

Bella giggled and took his hand, following as he led her to the bath.

When she saw it, it was like something from a dream. Large and square, with blue, green, mother-of-pearl and gray tiles, it looked to fit at least a dozen people. As she entered, glossy white bubbles parted way and the scent of flowers came up to greet her.

"I'll leave you to bathe. Your clothing has been moved to our chamber. I've had a few things added, but please choose what you like."

Edward left her to her bath and Bella sank down the large, shelf-like steps into the pool of warm water. As she relaxed, tipping her head back into the water, she realized that she'd never quite felt so at home inside of her own skin. The opulence of Edward's world intimidated her, yet the mysticism of it, the profundity of the world she now inhabited, felt right to her in a way that nothing else ever had.

Perhaps it was a seed planted that first night on the beach, when a sun-god had taken her and made her his own. Perhaps it was a lifetime of stories – stories in which the characters had become her best friends, her favorite people – finally coming true, that made her believe that anything was possible. Whatever the reason, the world she was in, this world of Edward's, felt more real than any moment of any day of her life before.

Bella rose from the bath and found her favorite hairbrush on the vanity. Edward's thoughtfulness touched her. She felt cared for in a way she never had before.

By the time she was dried and dressed, Bella's stomach was telegraphing a relentless message to the world: Feed me! She smiled and opened the door, only to find Edward waiting on the other side. That touched her, too. She'd wondered for a moment how she'd find him, but instead, he'd found her. Had waited for her. The smile she offered felt like a paltry payment, but it was his, nonetheless.

"Let's get you fed, little one."

Edward took her hand and pulled her close to himself. She closed her eyes and breathed deep, smelling the fresh, earthy scent that was his, and his alone. When she opened her eyes, they were outside of her favorite restaurant, a place that served crepes and mimosas and the best coffee she'd ever had.

They'd been seated and ordered their food. Bella ordered a sweet, custard filled crepe, and Edward, who didn't need to eat, ordered food that he thought Bella would like. His need to feed her, to tend to her every desire, was overwhelming at times.

"Edward, why are we here? Why didn't we eat at the palace?"

Edward closed his eyes for a moment, then reached for her hand.

"Do you remember Esme speaking about the laws of hospitality, and each person's obligations?"

Bella had a dim memory of Esme and some kind of fight, but the whole of that moment was gone to her, and she shook her head.

Turmoil stirred in Edward's belly. He didn't think he would lose her, not here, not now, but what he had to say could very well turn her against him in the future. Still, he'd learned from the last time that his honesty was the least price he could pay for time spent with the girl next to him. "There's more to it than this, but simply put, if you eat from my hand, in my home, you become-" and here, he cast about for easier words, and finding none, gave her the truth, naked and cruel, for what else could it be?

"If you eat from my hand, in my home, you will become damned to a life spent bound to me. To my kingdom. As my queen. I would never ask you for that sacrifice."

Isabella sipped from her champagne glass, mimosa had always been one of her favorites, and considered Edward's words.

"So if I take food from your hand, does that mean literally?"

The question surprised Edward, and he considered it long enough for their food to come, long enough to watch as Bella bit into a ripe strawberry, her tongue sweeping out to chase an errant drop of juice. Long enough for her to close her eyes and moan at the light, creamy crepe as it hit her tongue, and long enough for her to reach across the table and take a forkful of potatoes right off of Edward's plate.

"I think," he began, wanting to take every precaution, "I think that even if you take the food from the table, that the laws are still the same. The binding is an important part of our culture. It is a marriage that cannot be undone, not in the face of disagreement or madness, not even, in your case, in the face of death. Once bound, you will be mine, and I will be yours, forever."

Bella had paused her eating to listen to him, watching as his green eyes darkened, and as they lit again with new fire as he spoke of forever.

"So every time I'm hungry, I'll need to come to the surface to eat, is that right?" Edward's discomfort at the subject was painful to watch, and Bella reached across the table to hold his hand.

"Yes. I can make arrangements to make this easier. I can – we can hire a chef, keep your apartment, anything that will allow you to eat comfortably without invoking the old laws. Whatever you need, Isabella."

His fingers had tightened their grip on her hand, and the intensity in his eyes made Bella's heart beat hard inside of her chest. This is what it was to be wanted by a man – by a god. This is what it meant to feel alive.

Wiping her mouth on her napkin, Bella returned Edward's fierce grip. "I'd like you to take me back now. To our chamber. Take me home."

The sound of Edward's gasp lit a fire inside of her heart. In a moment, they were home.

Isabella went to the bed and sat, her mind filled with a million things. Her past…what was there for her? A degree for a future she couldn't imagine. Friends who hardly noticed her absence. A cold apartment that smelled of dust and disuse, even when she tried to infuse it with life.

Or she could choose this life. A life with Edward, his constancy and quiet support. He was mercurial, she knew that. He could be the happiest man she'd ever known, and if something went the wrong way, prone to fits of temper that could shake the earth with his fury. He had hurt her. His strength was too great for her, and yet, hadn't he made love to her with such great, aching tenderness? Hadn't he tried to please her, in every way that he could? Her clothes lined the armoire, as did a plethora of beautiful gowns that she knew by looking would be a perfect fit. He was interesting and intelligent, and while he could act a child, she hoped – she believed – that she could temper his ways and perhaps bring some softness to his iron rule of the netherworld.

The netherworld. She could reign as a queen here. She could see her father again, her family. And she could, she thought, still go to the surface as needed. If the gods themselves could do it, couldn't she?

She looked up from her lap, and found Edward slouching against the wall opposite her. She rose, closed her eyes and reached her hands out to him. They found their home, where they belonged, surrounded by his warmth. She pushed her mind out at him, willing him to see the future in her head:

He stood, regal as any king, this mighty god of the underworld. The crown he wore gleamed golden in the pale light of the throne room and the dead crowded before him, petitioning, always, to have their voices heard.

And she stood beside him, her small hand in his, in a pale gown of the softest silk and a slender golden crown embossed with a single emerald.

Bella knew the moment he had seen her vision, for he gasped and drew her hands tighter into his.

"In my world, when there is a marriage, it is usually accompanied by a great feast. I wonder, Edward, would you give us such a feast?"

The fire in his eyes was all the answer that she needed.

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* * *

Author's Note:

**Dedicated** to every one of you who asked for it, who kept reading, who loved it or hated it, but especially for those of you who waited for it. My gratitude to you all is simply nothing I can describe. Thank you.

**Epilogue** is next. I'm hopeful that it will come next week, as it's already halfway done. :)


	25. 25: Red

**And Yet They Shine**

**Red**

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The waters of the Styx made soft lapping noises against the shore. Bella sat, nestled against Jake's side, and listened to the rhythm. It was funny, she thought, that the rhythm of the water moving – the ocean, and now this shore, had been the background music to the biggest changes of her life, and yet nothing about that sound was unsettling. It was that sound that told her she was exactly where she belonged.

Her fingers dug into Jake's fur. He heaved a sigh and Bella stroked the velvet just above his nose. He was large enough that Bella could have used him for a bed, if she desired, but now she was content to lie against him, taking comfort from his large frame and soft fur.

Tucking her legs up under her, she smiles a little at herself. Here she is, wed to a man (god) who could literally buy and sell the world a dozen times over, and she's wearing a pair of jeans she's had since high-school. Still, she thinks, fingering the ring on her finger, being married to Edward was not entirely what she thought it would be.

The binding ceremony was elaborate, and seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. One moment she was asking Edward to take her as his own, and the next there were trumpets blaring and people to meet, and gifts – my gods, the gifts. Bella's head spun with it.

And every day, as often as she wished, Edward brought her to the surface and watched as she ate. Sometimes he joined her, taking sustenance he didn't need simply to please her. Other times he watched, and once in a while, he left her as he tended to some business or other. She'd once asked what he did when he was away, and he'd looked uncomfortable and wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Oh!" she'd said when she figured it out. "I didn't realize you do that personally."

"I don't always," he answered. "But some need it, and it is my responsibility."

Isabella tried to imagine what that must be like, and her heart pained for what Edward must go through. "Is it difficult?" she asked.

"Not in the way you might think."

When she tried to find out more, he turned his head away. Edward guarded himself, his privacy, fiercely. She guessed that after an eternity of being alone, the change to becoming open and more caring was bound to be a slow one. She found she didn't mind.

The day of their binding feast broke to find Bella sitting on the shores of the beach where she'd first med Edward and Jasper, first found out that fantasies and stories could be more than make believe. Alice found her there and sat beside her as they watched Jasper pull the sun high into the sky.

"Do you wonder what might have been?" Alice asked. "Or what might yet be?" Her eyes stayed fastened on the too-bright glow in the sky.

Bella shook her head. "No. I know that I made the right choice."

Alice smiled and threaded her fingers through Bella's hand. "He is young still, and impatient. He tires easily of his new toys. That," she said, gesturing to the sun, "is the only thing he has ever stuck with. Still, he would have loved you. It would have been different, but it might have been enough."

"And now?" Bella asked, wondering what Alice saw in the future where Edward was her betrothed.

Alice squeezed Bella's hand and laid her head on Bella's shoulder. "I think I will know you for a very long time."

Later that evening, as the doors to the banquet hall in Edward's palace opened, Bella tried to keep those words in mind. Her stomach fluttered at the sight of all of the people before her. Most were gods and demi-gods, but some, the most precious, were the souls of her loved ones: her father, her grandmother. They smiled and her grandmother blinked away tears, as Bella paused during her march down the aisle to blow a kiss their way.

Carlisle stood and said some words, and then, one by one, each god and each goddess came and took Bella's hands in theirs, kissed her cheeks and whispered words of welcome. Edward stiffened when Jasper came, and there was something in Jasper's eyes, a longing, she thought, but he did nothing different from the others, and she saw Edward release a breath when Jasper turned away.

Eventually, the blessings were done, and Alice brought forward a small domed tray. Lifting the lid, she revealed a pomegranate that had been broken open, it's seeds spilling onto the golden cloth beneath it.

Bella smiled remembering those seeds from the last time, and caught Edward's little joke. She arched an eyebrow at him, and he had the good grace to look sheepish.

And then he'd offered her seeds with his own hand, and she'd opened her mouth for him and allowed him to press them home. The red fruit burst against her tongue and she closed her eyes, savoring their bright, bittersweet flavor. It was apt, she thought, that that would be her first taste of the underworld – bitter and sweet, because taking this path had been both, so far.

After the celebration – which lasted, it seemed, for days – Bella Edward finally retired to their chambers.

"Are you happy, my queen?" Edward's eyes held much warmth, but there was a trickle of doubt there as well.

"Very much so, Edward. Very much so." And then she rose to her tip-toes and kissed him, opening her mouth and her mind so that he could see just how happy, how content, she was.

In the months and years that had passed, Bella began taking the tonic that would keep her immortal, keep her by Edward's side. She found that, like him, she needed less sleep and less food, although she never seemed to need less of _him. _That was something that she hoped would never change.

Most days, she sat at his side in the throne room, hearing the pleas of the dead, trying to offer them comfort when she could, interceding on their behalf when she felt it was right. Edward was unused to being challenged, and at times that led to fiery confrontations on both of their parts. There were days when Bella fled to the surface, to stand near the ocean or watch the sun sink down, ending another day. Often, Poseidon would watch her from afar, surrounded by lovely sea-nymphs, keeping guard. Sometimes she would splash out to join him and the nymphs would shells into her hair as they talked. Sometimes she'd yell and call him "Posey," and he'd swim off in a huff, showing her his flipper as he went.

On occasion Emmett would seek her out, and they would play jocular games that he always won, but that always brought an end to her foul moods. Though, that friendship had ended soon after he'd taken up with Rosalie. She was a fierce and jealous mistress.

Most often, when Bella found herself wandering the human world, she did so with either Esme or Alice by her side. Both offered her counsel when she asked for it, but most often, they were content to be at her side, offering her their quiet support until she felt she could face Edward once again.

Always, when the fire of their tempers died down, a new fire arose and on those nights all knew to leave their bedchamber undisturbed.

Bella pressed her ear to Jacob's side and listened to the tide of his breath. She had not chosen an easy life. She had given up friends and family, and all ties to the world as she'd known it. Still, when Edward cocked his head and looked at her just so, or (less often, she had to admit) deferred to her on some matter, Isabella felt that she had made the only choice for happiness possible.

"You are so lovely in this light." Edward's voice started Bella out of her dreams, and she smiled and rose. Jake rose as well, his tail wagging and trotted to his master.

"Kingdom for your thoughts?"

Isabella smiled and shrugged. "Just thinking about how I got here."

Edward's green eyes shone soft in the dim light, and Bella wondered if he still had bouts of insecurity. It was something that he'd once talked with Esme and Carlisle about often, she knew.

"And?"

"And I am happy, Edward. So happy."

Edward reached for her wrist and pulled her close to him. There, in the dim light of the underworld, Bella breathed in his scent – earthy and green and comforting and enticing – and laid her head against his chest.

Edward placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head and smiled.

And there they stood, a god and his queen, as the world turned around, and the people lived and died and fought and loved, and the oceans ebbed and flowed, and the sun rose and set, and the stars, they shone down upon it all.

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**AN:**

So, I can't believe how many of you are still reading this. And dang, finally putting that check mark and calling this complete? Feels amazing. Thank you so much to all of you who read and recommend. Your reviews yesterday…they left me speechless and smiling. I thank you for that.

As far as a sequel goes, well, I won't say never, but probably not. I feel like I told the whole story here, but if something else pops up, I'll write it.

I've been working on some original fiction, and I also have a few unfinished twific stories that may or may not get completed. I won't post anything until I have a solid outline because, damn, three years to finish this story? Embarrassing.

And humbling, that so many of you still read it.

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**Personal note, for those who want to read it:**

For the last few years, I've been struggling with depression and medication for it. I have a chemical imbalance that sometimes makes it hard for me to feel happy, or even content, and on top of that, I've had some real life things happening for the last few years that have been fairly devastating. I can tell you that the medication saved my life – that is not hyperbole. Medication also made it really hard for me to write or to feel creative. Since I've come off the medication (with my doctor's help), I've found that I'm able to write more, and be happy with the things I've written. It feels So. Good.

So why am I telling you this? One, because 3 years is a long-ass time to be writing a story as short as this one. I thank all of you for your patience. And two, because I believe that it's important for those of us who do experience deep depression , and who do use medication, to talk about it, if we're comfortable doing so. I refuse to feel stigmatized for this disease any more than I would feel bad for having cancer or any other life threatening disease. It sucks. I've found a way to deal with it. And if this helps even one person – even in the tiniest way – then I'm glad I did it.

With love,

me


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